


Love and Affection

by MissToni



Category: Sanditon (TV 2019), Sanditon - Jane Austen
Genre: F/M, Happy Ending, Regency, Regency Romance, Romantic Fluff, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-17 10:00:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 27,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29469864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissToni/pseuds/MissToni
Summary: Charlotte Heywood believes in love and affection. Sidney Parker believes in being an outlier. Despite all their differences, there is one moment that binds them together. Forever, as it turns out.This story is basically about two people doing things in the wrong order: first getting engaged and then falling in love with each other.Wait, wait, wait, wait… they are getting engaged? Yeah, and with one Sanditon storyline gone wrong, the rest is bound to go wrong as well. That includes the ending: no muddled mess, but near-perfect happiness.
Relationships: Charlotte Heywood/Sidney Parker
Comments: 305
Kudos: 401





	1. Indiscretion

**Author's Note:**

> I’m sure the story’s premise has been done before. I wanted to ignore the whole idea, but it was a bit like Arthur and a cake stall: I could not walk past without trying at least a tiny little piece. And once I had tasted the crumbs, I wanted the full cake.
> 
> If you happen to have read my previous Sanditon stories: This one is a bit different. No seagulls. No handbags. Not that much drama. 
> 
> And finally: I’m a friend of historical accuracy in historical fiction, but I have to admit that I did not put much research into this. So if you spot any horrible Regency blunders, please let me know, and I’ll try to correct them (or explain them away).

_I hate to hear you talk about all women as if they were fine ladies instead of rational creatures. None of us want to be in calm waters all our lives. (Jane Austen, Persuasion)_

Insufferable man!

He was lounging in his brother's chair, boots up on the desk, puffing his disgusting tobacco, rolling his eyes and glaring at her from behind the newspaper: “Can’t I even read the news in peace?” – as if it was perfectly acceptable for him to occupy the study; as if he had every reason to be here and she none at all. And he had the nerve to call her ubiquitous!

“If you don’t wish to be disturbed,” Charlotte said, chin up and not shying away from his irritating gaze, “you might choose somewhere more secluded.”

“I tried that,” he informed her, looking her square in the eyes. “It wasn’t _entirely_ successful.”

He was a brute, he really was. Only the most odious and offensive ruffian would dare to remind her of their embarrassing meeting at the cove. A gentleman – a true gentleman – would never have referred to that moment again.

But Sidney Parker was a gentleman in name only. She knew that very well. Forgetting her name, rebuking her at the ball, rejecting her apology, and then, to top it all, that… that encounter at the cove. He was nothing but a rich man who believed personal wealth, a handsome face, and a certain experience in life were enough to justify baseless prejudices and bad manners. 

But before Charlotte could put her opinion on Mr Sidney Parker’s character into more than an angry frown, she was interrupted by her host. 

“Charlotte! Sidney!” Tom Parker stormed into the study. “Come on; it’s time to leave. You don’t want to miss… what is it, Wickens?”

The servant bowed. “Mrs Parker is requesting your presence in the drawing-room, sir. – Yours and Miss Heywood’s,” he specified.

“Oh, we don’t have time for that, Wickens. Tell Mrs Parker that we are about to depart for Dr Fuchs’ fascinating demonstration of his skills at Sanditon House.”

“Mrs Parker was very adamant, sir,” Wickens said. “Mr Hankins is with her.”

“Splendid!” Mr Parker beamed. “He can accompany us to Lady D’s. A man of the church meeting a man of the science. I’m intrigued as to what the good vicar will have to say on the principle of hydrotherapy. Aren’t you too, Charlotte?”

Charlotte quickly nodded, tearing her eyes from the newspaper behind which Sidney Parker continued to puff his tobacco. She followed her host to the drawing-room where, indeed, Mrs Parker was sitting on the sofa, looking slightly careworn as always – or perhaps even more so right now. The vicar stood and bowed at their entrance, then positioned himself on one of the chairs beneath the window, sitting very upright, his hands folded on top of his knees, his chin held high, his face an expression of complacency and self-righteousness. Charlotte realised that whatever had brought him here, it was definitely not curiosity about Dr Fuchs and the miracles of hydrotherapy.

“My dear Mr Hankins!” Mr Parker walked straight towards his visitor. “What a happy timing! Would you care to join us for a most fascinating medical demonstration at Lady Denham’s? I have been fortunate enough to lure a truly renowned specialist to Sanditon. You must have heard of Dr Maximilian Fuchs…”

“Indeed I have not,” Mr Hankins said. “And for the moment, I am in no mood to indulge myself in shallow sensation mongering. I am here on a matter of conscience, sir.”

“Oh,” Mr Parker said, visibly taken aback. Charlotte followed Mrs Parker’s gaze and took a seat next to her hostess on the sofa. “A matter of conscience,” Mr Parker repeated. “What might that be? And how can I be of help, vicar?”

“As you know, sir, there is an exceptional garden of gentle young lilies blossoming on Sanditon’s shores right now,” Mr Hankins explained. “The young Misses Beaufort, Miss Lambe of course, Lady Denham’s nieces, Miss Brereton, Miss Denham, and your own guest, Miss Heywood.”

“Yes. And glad we are to have so many young ladies with us.” Mr Parker smiled first at Charlotte, then at Mr Hankins. The vicar did not smile back.

“As the spiritual leader of our community, I sense it is my duty, if not my responsibility, to ensure all rules of propriety are strictly observed lest the innocence of these young ladies should not be compromised.”

Mr Parker laughed. “If you are referring to our sea-bathing expeditions, I can assure you, Mr Hankins, there is no impropriety at all,” he said. “The ladies take their turns from the safe havens of the bathing machines, while we gentlemen venture down to our part of the beach. It is all conducted in the strictest privacy and to the benefit of us all. You find sea-bathing very invigorating, Charlotte, don’t you?”

“I do,” Charlotte agreed, not sure what to make of this conversation.

“And yet,” Mr Hankins said, ignoring her, “yet I had to witness two members of your very own household, sir, entangling themselves in the most shocking breach of propriety.”

“What?” For once, Mr Parker looked dumbfounded. “Mary?” he asked after a second, turning to his wife, as always when in need of help. “What is this about?” And as his wife said nothing but only searched for the hand of her young guest, he added: “Charlotte?”

And Charlotte, feeling her heart sink and her colour rise, understood that their encounter at the cove had not been as private as both she and Sidney Parker assumed.

*

With Miss Heywood and his brother gone, Sidney leaned back and took another deep draw from his cheroot. In truth, he did not smoke the stuff because he so much enjoyed it, but because it was even more efficient than a cane or an angry scowl if one wanted to keep the rest of the world at bay. Especially young girls from nowhere who presumed to know everything. Miss Heywood again! Truth be told, she was ubiquitous, not only in person but also in his mind. 

More truth be told, he quite enjoyed her absolutely apparent inability to forget what had happened at the cove. He even more enjoyed her attempts at behaving with a young lady’s decorum when faced with the memory of their encounter. Her vivid facial expressions and sharp rhetorical arrows were way more entertaining than Georgiana’s unending complaints, Tom’s selfish rants or Crowe’s terrible singing. 

Even more truth be told, the most enjoyable part of it all was the way Miss Heywood breathed in and breathed out when she was exasperated (usually about him), setting her whole body and especially her lovely cleavage into motion. During their dance at the ball, that cleavage – and the effort it was taking him not to stare at it – had distracted him thoroughly. He had been exceptionally grateful when Georgiana’s appearance offered him an excuse for an honourable escape.

All in all, if Miss Heywood was suffering from what she had seen at the cove, it was only just. He was suffering as well, and from more visions than just one. 

He drew on the cheroot again, trying to concentrate on the newspaper. The society section was not the most fascinating part of the news – especially for someone who considered himself an outlier. And yet there was something that caught his eye, hidden between an announcement of a ball at a Mrs Maudsley’s and some speculations about who the Prince Regent was currently simpatico with. Just a short passage, but enough to stop thinking about Miss Heywood: _The lovely Mrs Campion, this correspondent understands, is about to come out of mourning and will soon grace London society with her wit and beauty again._

Mrs Campion. Eliza.

He shoved the paper aside, extinguished the cheroot, took his boots off the desk and grabbed his jacket: time for another round of bracing exercise down at the…

“Sidney!” Tom stormed into the study, his cheeks showing a dramatic red colour, his long arms rotating like the sails of a windmill. “Here you are! Come with me immediately!”

Sidney scrambled into his jacket. “I’m sorry, Tom, I’m not going to join you for Dr Fuchs’ demon-…”

“Ah, Dr Fuchs!” Tom ran a hand through his hair, leaving it in a somewhat dishevelled state. “Wickens!” The servant appeared from behind a pillar. “Wickens, send a man to Sanditon House… the Parker party is inconsolable, but we are delayed… we are delayed most tragically. - If we are to lose Dr Fuchs because of this, it will be down on your head as well, Sidney!”

“Can’t take the blame,” Sidney said. “I’ve never met the chap. Actually, I’m going out for…”

“You are not going out, Sidney!”– and with a rather uncharacteristic display of elder-brother-authority, Tom took him by the elbow and pushed him towards the drawing-room.

“Tom?”

“This is serious now, brother! This is truly serious!” Tom’s eyes seemed to pop out of their sockets as he opened the drawing room’s door.

And it was serious. It was evident the moment Sidney stepped into the room: the vicar, upright on his chair and as stiff as a poker, his face the very picture of self-righteousness. Mary, apprehensively clutching Miss Heywood’s hands. Miss Heywood, staring down at her feet, her cheeks burning with a shame he had seen only once before.

At the cove. 

His heart sank. If that was what this was about… if they _knew…_ Miss Heywood raised her head, her dark eyes boring into his. Ashamed she might be, but she had lost none of her spirit – despite a slightly trembling underlip. Her expression for him, however, was full of defiance. This is down to you, her gaze said. Now find a way to get us out of it.

“Mary… Miss Heywood… Mr Hankins – how can I be of assistance?” He slumped down on the next chair, his mouth twitching, his hands folded in front of him. Regretfully, he had left his cane along with the coat and the hat in Wickens’ care: it was such a powerful accessory to underline the part of the nonchalant ruffian that he was apparently expected to play. 

“Oh Sidney,” Mary softly said as Tom started pacing up and down the room and Mr Hankins showed an expression as if he was Sanditon’s one and only rightful arbiter of decency and decorum. Finally, Tom spoke.

“The vicar here has given us a rather dreadful account of a most unfortunate encounter that occurred between you and Miss Heywood in the wake of Lady Denham’s luncheon party. No need to deny it, Sidney – Miss Heywood has already confirmed the incident.”

Sidney checked his timepiece. “I wasn’t going to deny anything, Tom. I’m just wondering how Mr Hankins might have obtained such information.”

“Ahem,” the vicar said. “I was looking out for Mrs Griffiths in the hope to support her in her search for Miss Lambe. Your ward had gone missing that afternoon, as you might remember, Mr Parker.” Sidney flinched at the friendly reminder of how woefully he had neglected his duties as a guardian on that day: carousing in the bar of the Crown with Babington and Crowe, then taking a swim while Georgiana’s desperation culminated in a desperate and unsuccessful attempt to flee Sanditon, ultimately resulting in her befriending another bad influence – Miss Heywood. “Thus,” Mr Hankins explained, “walking towards the shoreline, I found myself in the unique position to become an eyewitness to the unfortunate incident.”

“Right,” Sidney said, trying to gain time. It would have been easier if the vicar had just divulged third-party knowledge. “But if you were there, sir, you can also confirm that it was nothing but a fleeting encounter.”

“A fleeting encounter?” Mr Hankins repeated. “I would not call it that, sir. Certainly, I was positioned too far away to gather any details, but I can safely say that a sort of conversation took place between you and Miss Heywood.”

“But that was about nothing!” Miss Heywood was obviously unable to hold back any longer. “Mr Parker, you must believe me!” She turned to her host.

Mary was stroking her hand. “No one’s blaming you, Charlotte.”

“Although,” her husband added, “it was of course rather unfortunate that you would amble along such a remote part of the beach all on your own, my dear.”

“So,” Sidney said. “With that clarified, can we all return to what we were doing? Tom, I suppose Lady D and Dr Fuchs are expecting you?” In fact, he could not wait to get away from the sanctimonious priest and Miss Heywood’s rather confounding presence.

“I don’t think we are finished here,” the vicar interjected. “Or in fact, if we are, that is just another proof of the sad decline of morals here in Sanditon.”

“Mr Hankins!” Tom exclaimed. “That is a very unfair charge! And a dangerous one as well! If you spread such rumours, they might jeopardise all our efforts at establishing Sanditon as a fashionable new resort.”

“Your efforts, Mr Parker. Solely your efforts. I’m definitely not an advocate for the frivolousness and debauchery that usually follow in such places.”

“Frivolousness and debauchery!” Tom repeated. Sidney saw his sister-in-law blanch. Mary Parker was undoubtedly the very opposite of frivolousness and debauchery. And yet, a lack of precisely those qualities was what had made Babington and Crowe eager to leave Sanditon.

“I haven’t slept well ever since I became an involuntary witness to your brother’s recklessness and Miss Heywood’s folly,” the vicar went on, speaking to Tom exclusively. “My conscience has been nagging on me, and yet, I believed, with your brother being a gentleman, and Miss Heywood a young lady, the matter would be resolved quickly and discreetly within the circle of your family. – And now I see that that has not been the case.”

“There was no matter to be resolved until you chose to make it one,” Sidney said, rather impatient now. Mr Hankins gave him a condescending look.

“Even without a witness, God sees all our deeds, Mr Parker.”

Miss Heywood leaned forward. “But surely then God must know that nothing untoward has happened, sir?” Admirable as her logic was, it was lost on the vicar. 

“Nothing untoward, Miss Heywood? In fact, there is a dramatic decline in decency in Sanditon. Only yesterday, I had to witness Miss Lambe, a young lady… merely a girl of no worldly experience whatsoever… I had to witness her display a… a wildness… a ferocity during her drawing lessons…” He shook his head in distress, turning to Sidney. “I assume you have been made aware of the incident, Mr Parker.”

“Indeed I have,” Sidney confirmed. “It’s the reason why I’m still here. I intended to leave for London yesterday.” He caught a quick glance by Miss Heywood, implying _If only you_ had _left_. Did she know what was in Georgiana’s painting? Mrs Griffiths had seen herself unfit to give him any other details than that it was not the work of a lady. 

“But this is unacceptable,” the vicar said. “How is Miss Lambe to understand the importance of moral integrity when her guardian will not stand up for his own repulsive actions against an innocent young woman?”

For a moment, there was no other sound than the ticking of the grandfather clock. Three pairs of eyes were staring at Sidney – the fourth was Miss Heywood’s, and she was staring not at him but at the vicar. Sidney felt his mouth twitch.

“I… um, I’m fully convinced that Mrs Griffiths will fulfil that educational duty,” he finally said. “She’s being paid well enough for it.”

“But the vicar is right,” Tom said. “You are Miss Lambe’s guardian, Sidney. You must lead by example – your behaviour sets the tone for her.”

“And so it will,” Sidney declared, standing up from his chair. It was really time to end this nonsense discussion. “I have learned my lesson, vicar, and I promise I’ll be a more conscientious role model for Miss Lambe in the future.” For a second, he considered adding an apology to Miss Heywood for the incident at the cove, but upon seeing her upset expression, he decided against it. Better not to mention the encounter ever again. “Good day,” he said and moved towards the door. His brother intercepted him.

“Sidney! Where are you going? This is far from over. I cannot afford to have Sanditon’s reputation sullied through your carelessness.”

“I wasn’t careless, I was sea-bathing,” Sidney said. But that wasn’t true, and the moment he said it, he knew it. Yes, he was sea-bathing. And the other Yes was that once Miss Heywood had discovered him, he had done nothing to hide himself from her. The easiest thing would have been to dive back into the waves: yet he had stayed where he was, in her full view. And even worse – instead of turning around, he had moved closer towards her. And to find spunky Charlotte Heywood finally lost for words had quite amused if not excited him. So yes, he was careless. And maybe even debauched.

“So you were sea-bathing,” Tom said. “And if you are so fond of sea-bathing, brother, then why not enjoy it at the men’s beach, as the other gentlemen do? Why be so reckless and go to the open shoreline?”

“I prefer my solitude,” Sidney replied through clenched teeth. 

“Obviously not that solitary if both Miss Heywood and the vicar managed to discover you.” For a moment, Sidney wondered whether Tom was actually enjoying this. Whether he relished that for once, he was not the elder brother who had to petition the younger for his support, his connections and his money. That for once, he was holding Sidney’s destiny in his hands and not Sidney his.

“Brother,” Tom went on. “This is not only about one unfortunate coincidence. This is about the future of Sanditon. How am I to fill my empty houses with respectable clientele if we have a reputation for frivolity? If it is known that a young lady cannot walk Sanditon’s beaches without the danger of being compromised? If Lady Denham hears about your antics, she may decide to withdraw her investment, and that…” He shook his head in sorrow. “That, brother, would be the end of us all.”

“But Mr Parker, how is Lady Denham to know about… about this, if we don’t tell her?” Miss Heywood asked, all eagerness and logic.

“Charlotte’s right,” Mary seconded her. “Surely there is no reason to blow the incident up when all who know about it are in this room and agree to keep silent.”

“I haven’t told anyone about it,” Miss Heywood said. “Not even my sister Alison, and she’s my closest confidante. And I trust Mr Parker has not been indiscrete either.” Sidney felt her gaze searching his, her large brown eyes pleading for confirmation.

He cleared his throat, trying to gain time. 

“Mr Parker?” she repeated, her tone more urgent now. 

“I… um.” He coughed, not meeting anyone’s eyes. “I might have mentioned the incident to Lord Babington and Mr Crowe.”

“What?” Miss Heywood cried, and “Oh, Sidney,” Mary softly said. The vicar made an unspecified sound that could be interpreted as “I told you so”, and Tom simply sank down on the next chair as if mortally wounded.

“There’s nothing to fear from them,” Sidney quickly added, knowing only too well that this was not going to help. “They are gentlemen.”

“Lord Babington and Mr Crowe,” Tom mumbled. This was obviously not the kind of promotion he had hoped to receive from his brother’s fashionable friends.

“But Mr Crowe is a chatterbox,” Miss Heywood said. She must know. After all, she had been sitting next to him during Lady Denham’s luncheon party. And as Sidney had been sitting on her other side, wilfully ignored by her for most of the event, he knew exactly how lively their conversation had been. Lively enough for Crowe to call Miss Heywood spunky afterwards.

“If Mr Crowe is to spread the word in London, we are ruined,” Tom summed up. “How can we hope to attract the most noble members of society if we cannot protect their daughters from being compromised? How can we advertise as a family resort if we don’t behave according to family values?” 

Sidney twitched his mouth. As usual, his brother was forgetting in all his Tom-ness that this was not entirely about him. It was also about Miss Heywood. A young, inexperienced girl from the countryside whose reputation would be shattered before she had even come close to spelling the words “Polite Society”. And if he could see it, so did Miss Heywood: she was staring at him in sheer horror, her eyes large and luminous, her mouth half-open, the lower lip trembling, her chest heaving in agitation.

“There is only one remedy,” Tom concluded. The vicar nodded emphatically.

“I have been saying so from the very beginning, Mr Parker. There is only one way to restore propriety and godliness to the soiled shores of Sanditon.”

Sidney saw Mary press Miss Heywood’s hands in a kind gesture of comfort and encouragement. He saw Miss Heywood shake her head in desperate disbelief, her dark curls flying about her shoulders, her whole body in agitated motion.

Bloody hell.

But there were worse prospects, after all. 

“I expect you, Sidney,” Tom said, displaying all his elder-brother-authority again, “to offer Miss Heywood your hand in marriage.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tom-ness: the essence of being Tom Parker, courtesy of Infopidge


	2. Principles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the warm welcome back!  
> In case no one’s told you today: you are a truly special and wonderful bunch of people. You very much deserve a happy Sidlotte ending, and until we get that officially, it’s my pleasure to help out for a while.

**_Previously…_ **

_How simply shocking: Mr Hankins has witnessed the encounter at the cove. Charlotte and Sidney try their best to talk themselves out of the compromising situation, but when Sidney admits to bragging about the incident to his friends, Tom sees only one way to save Sanditon’s reputation and Lady D’s investment…_

_***_

“I expect you, Sidney,” Mr Parker said, looking very grave, “to offer Miss Heywood your hand in marriage.”

Charlotte shook her head in desperation, making her brown curls dance up and down. “But Mr Parker, I…”

“No, no, my dear.” Bending his long body towards her, he patted her hand. “Don’t reproach yourself. I could never forgive myself if you or your reputation came to any harm. Your good father was so anxious about your integrity… trust me, we will put this wrong right.”

“But I could… I could not accept… ” she started, unable to finish the sentence as long as Sidney Parker was staring at her from where he was sitting, his expression a thunderous mix of indignation and displeasure. She was afraid he might explode any moment like a firecracker. That would solve her present problem but as so often, only for the price of creating new ones.

“My dear,” Mr Parker said, patting her hand again. “We all remember your passionate plea about love and affection at Lady Denham’s luncheon table. Admirable as it was, that is not how the world is working these days. Unfortunately, marriage is very often mostly a question of reason and economy, as you will understand when you are more experienced.”

“Tom!” Mrs Parker cried, probably wondering whether her own marriage was a result of reason and economy as well. Her husband gave her an indulgent smile. 

“Oh, we were blessed, of course, my dearest, combining economic necessities with the wishes of our hearts.” Mrs Parker did not seem to agree entirely but was intercepted by the vicar.

“I presume that means I can read the banns this coming Sunday?” he asked.

“Yes,” Mr Parker said, and “No!” Charlotte cried. Sidney Parker did not say anything. He got up from his chair and started pacing the room.

“Of course, we will have to wait for Mr Heywood’s consent, vicar,” Mr Parker explained after a moment. “But that will be a mere formality. It is, after all, a very advantageous match for Charlotte.”

“Tom!” Mrs Parker said. “Surely, you cannot force them.”

Charlotte was still searching for her voice. Until half an hour ago, Sidney Parker had been her host’s insufferable brother. Now she was supposed to spend the rest of her life with him? As a result of one unfortunate misstep? _Be careful,_ she heard her father say. She shook her head and stood up. “Mr Parker, this will not do. If my presence here is such a threat to the reputation of Sanditon, I will leave and return to my family at once.”

“Oh, no, no, no, no, my dear.” Mr Parker shook his head most decisively. “That would be very ill-advised. Questions will arise as to why you had to depart so suddenly…”

“It can always be explained with an emergency in the family,” Sidney Parker said. Charlotte found his comment both helpful and hurtful at the same time, especially as an indifferent shrug of his shoulders accompanied it.

“And Lady Denham will be most inquisitive,” Mr Parker added, ignoring his brother’s input. “She does enjoy your conversation, Charlotte. I dare not disappoint her.”

“May I interject that simply removing part of the problem is not a cure for the whole body. We will not be relieved from the moral obligation we are holding,” the vicar said. “In my experience, young women often find it very hard to resist temptation.” 

Temptation? What was the man thinking about? Charlotte gave an exasperated gasp. But she did not say anything. Mr Hankins would only take her retort as further proof that morals and decorum were on the decline in Sanditon.

“Enough!” Sidney Parker’s fist went crashing down on the table, drawing all attention on him. “If this is about a prospective marriage, exactly two people should be having this conversation. – So. Vicar, Mary, Tom – can I ask you to leave me alone with Miss Heywood?”

Mrs Parker stood and gave Charlotte another encouraging pat on her hand, and even Mr Parker moved towards the door. The vicar, however, remained where he was: “Given the delicacy of the situation, I presume I might act as a chaperon and mediator here.”

“ _Two_ people,” Sidney Parker repeated in a firm tone, glaring at the priest, and for a second, Charlotte believed she understood why he was such a successful businessman. He simply scared all opposition away. And if that did not work, he took out his disgusting tobacco stuff and engulfed them in his smoke until they begged for mercy.

When the vicar and the Parkers had left the drawing-room, Sidney Parker gave a deep sigh, moved his chair and sat down facing Charlotte directly. “So. Miss Heywood. Quite a checkmate we have landed ourselves in.” His voice was deep and a bit hoarse, his expression serious, and when he moved, she caught the smell of cold tobacco and the whiff of something else, something that made her think of a fresh sea breeze. She shook her head. As always, she found it hard to make him out. The sooner this ridiculous conversation was over, the better. 

“I’m not going to marry you,” she said. 

“I haven’t asked you yet.” Was that a glimmer of amusement in his eyes? Insufferable man!

“And I would be very obliged if you did not ask at all, to save us both the embarrassment.”

“Understood.” He leaned back, eyeing her undeterred, a frown on his forehead, his fingers tapping the armrest of the chair. “Now, Miss Heywood. Any other suggestions on how we might stop Mr Hankins from destroying my brother’s life’s work?”

“How would I know – inexperienced as I am, having been nowhere and having learnt nothing?” Was that amusement again in his eyes? What a brute he was! 

“At least you know how to stand up for yourself, Miss Heywood.”

“If that is a compliment, Mr Parker, it will do nothing to alter my decision.”

“It _is_ a compliment.” Charlotte paused for a moment. He was paying her a compliment? Did that smoke stuff affect his brain?

He was leaning back on his chair now, hands folded in front of him, his long legs in black leather boots stretched out. Lounging was a more appropriate description for what he was doing in that chair, for sitting like a civilised person – upright, chin up, and shoulders back – was something completely different.

If he did not manage to behave like a gentleman, she certainly knew how to comport herself like a lady. So she sat upright on Mrs Parker’s sofa, her hands neatly folded, ready to listen to whatever he had to say to her.

“You see, Miss Heywood, I’m a businessman,” was what he had to say to her. “I review every possible transaction from different angles. What do I have to invest? What do I stand to gain? Is there a risk? And if there is, does the potential profit justify taking the risk?”

“I see,” Charlotte said, though what his business routines had to do with a discussion of marriage was beyond her understanding. 

“So if I regard our situation as a business transaction,” he continued, “what do I have to invest? A certain sum to set up a home and a household for you. I suppose you will not mind staying in Sanditon?” He did not seem to expect an answer, for without so much as looking at Charlotte, he went on: “And my brother will be glad to let me one of the houses on Waterloo Terrace. Can I afford that house? Yes, I can. Can I afford your upkeep? Again, yes, I can.” 

With an expression of complete self-complacency, he removed an invisible flake of dust from his waistcoat, then shot a quick glance at Charlotte as if to make sure that she was still listening, and seeing that she was, continued: “What will I gain from our connection? Difficult to say. At first glance, only Lady Denham and my brother seem to profit if Sanditon’s reputation remains intact, but as I have an investment in the project as well, I win where they win, and I lose where they lose.” Ignoring – or perhaps missing – the frown on Charlotte’s face, he came to his final reflections: “On a more practical level, you seem to be going on well with my ward, and even though I don’t sanction all your actions, I certainly see Miss Lambe’s need for a confidante. You might be useful in that aspect.” 

_Useful?_

“Besides,” he continued, undeterred by Charlotte’s little gasp, “I’ll gain someone to care for me in old age, especially as you are so much younger than me. – How old are you?”

“I’m twenty-one,” Charlotte said, trying hard to keep her hands folded and her face civil. _Care for me in old age?_ She would lovingly carry an ailing husband his slippers and a blanket… an ailing husband bound to her by mutual love and affection. Sidney Parker, however, was very welcome to shiver and have cold feet.

“Very well, ten years then,” he now said and added, staring out of the window: “I also expect that you will give me an heir. I don’t mind leaving what I have to my nieces and nephews, but my own child… A daughter or a son to care for, that puts a new perspective on everything, don’t you think?” For a fraction of a second, Charlotte believed she saw a different man, a man much younger and more sensitive than the brute she knew. But with her next breath, that stranger was gone, and the old scowl was back.

She found it impossible to agree or disagree with what he had said or to point out that the child he was talking about was not his, but hers as well – or to say anything at all right now. Sidney Parker did not seem to expect an answer anyway. In fact, he did not even seem to notice her indignation, for he went on, studying his nails: “Is there a risk in marrying you? – There certainly is, again based on our acquaintance so far. You are too headstrong and too outspoken with your opinions, and I’ll tell you freely that I consider myself ill-suited for marriage.”

Charlotte looked up, feeling puzzled despite her anger. Ill-suited for marriage: What a sad thing to say about oneself. And he was wrong, anyway: she believed that in the end, the success of any relationship was a matter of compatibility. However, judging by what she knew about the man in front of her, she had little hope of being compatible with him, so she kept her thoughts to herself.

Sidney Parker went on with his assessment. “Does the potential profit justify taking the risk?” he asked and provided the answer himself: “I should say so, yes. After all, if we find life with each other’s company too disagreeable, you can stay in Sanditon while I conduct my businesses from London. Conclusion: Considering the profits, marriage is a risk I’m willing to take.”

For a moment, the only sound in the room was the grandfather clock chiming the hour. 

“Is that all?” Charlotte asked when the chiming had stopped and she understood that there was nothing to follow. 

“That is all,” Sidney Parker confirmed. 

“That,” Charlotte slowly said, “was the most repulsive proposal I’ve ever heard of. – And I really did not expect the bar to go any lower when you so offensively rejected my apology after the ball.”

Sidney Parker shrugged his shoulders. “I was just giving an honest and objective assessment of our situation.”

“Of _your_ situation, Mr Parker! What about me? What about _my_ wishes, _my_ expectations?”

He shrugged his shoulders again. “You’ll have to throw your notions of a love match overboard. That’s what you have to invest, Miss Heywood. But I assume you understand that such perfect happiness is nothing but an illusion anyway.”

“Is it?”

“It is,” he confirmed with that twitch of his mouth that forbade any further comment. “What do you stand to gain?” he said, after another pause, returning to the original topic. “Quite a lot, I believe. The independence of a household of your own. A name that is respected and recognised both in local and London society. And – as I understand your own family is rather large – a chance to support and bring out your brothers and sisters. A task definitely more difficult if your reputation was smeared.” 

Charlotte gasped. For all the hurtful and offensive things he was saying, he had a point here: if she threw all her principles overboard and became Mrs Sidney Parker of Sanditon, she would be able to take a great worry off her parents’ shoulders. She could promote and sponsor her many siblings – maybe even have Alison come to live with her. As Miss Heywood, sent home to Willingden in a suspicious hurry, she would not be able to support anyone, not even herself. On the contrary, any whiff of a scandal would reflect badly, not only on her but on her family as well.

Mrs Sidney Parker. But no. That could not be: the idea was utterly ridiculous. There had to be some other way. 

Mr Sidney Parker, however, was still weighing up costs against benefits. “Is there a risk for you?” He shrugged his shoulders once more. “Try as I might, I can’t find one.” 

I might meet someone I fall in love with, Charlotte thought, wondering what it would actually feel like: to be in love. With someone who shared her values and convictions. Who believed that a good marriage should be based on mutual love and affection, not on business considerations and the need for a caregiver in old age. 

I would come to reproach myself for betraying my beliefs. I might become unhappy in a loveless match, she thought. But she was not going to offer Sidney Parker another opportunity to belittle and hurt her any further, so she remained silent.

“All in all,” he concluded his evaluation, “it’s a profitable transaction for both sides, with you gaining even more than I do.” He was looking at her seemingly indifferent, yet with a strange shine in his dark eyes. Was that… expectation? Hope? Or even insecurity? Sidney Parker, insecure? The notion was completely absurd.

“And yet I’m going to decline your kind offer,” Charlotte declared firmly. His expression changed, turning into something more emphatic as he leaned forward as if trying to bridge the gap between them. 

“Miss Heywood…”

A knock on the door interrupted him. Mr Parker stuck in his head. “Have you come to an agreement, Sidney? I don’t want to put any pressure on you, but I do wish to join Doctor Fuchs at Lady Denham’s as soon as possible. I’m a bit concerned about the good doctor all alone in Lady D’s hands.”

Sidney jumped up. “We are in negotiations,” he announced and closed the door into his brother’s face. Then he started restlessly pacing up and down the room, his hands on his sides.

Charlotte tried to look the other way, which was not very easy, given his aimless movements. If only she could wipe that picture of him at the cove from her mind! But she could not: it was there, burnt into her memory, Sidney Parker and all the secrets of male anatomy revealed in their greatest glory. 

Despite a lack of comparison and experience, she understood perfectly well that he was a marvellous example of male beauty, one of the Greek statues from her father’s books come to life – a fact that made her blush again. However, his character was so much less admirable. One might give him credit perhaps for not outright rejecting the idea of marriage. Yet, an open refusal might have been less hurtful than his cold recital of pros and cons for a potential business transaction.

He stopped pacing around and stood in front of her. “There is a simple fact at the core of the matter, Miss Heywood,” he said. “You and I made a mistake that is putting the success of Sanditon in great peril now.”

“I didn’t…” He held up his hand.

“Even if you didn’t ambush me on purpose-…”

“I didn’t ambush you!” Charlotte cried. “I was taking a walk.”

“On your own. Unchaperoned. Why did you not return to town with Georgiana and Mrs Griffiths?”

“Because… because…” Because it was such a lovely afternoon. Because it was so exciting, discovering the shoreline, picking up shells and pebbles and flotsam, enjoying herself, enjoying being on her own, not being followed by a throng of siblings as she usually was at home. _Be careful_ , she heard her father say. Because she had not listened to her father’s advice.

“You see?” Sidney Parker said. “Carelessness is often an explanation for our mistakes, but never an excuse. And we were both careless, you and I.”

“But _you_ bragged about it in front of your friends!”

“Yes. And that was an even bigger mistake. For which I am going to accept the consequences.” But he was not going to apologise for it. Charlotte shook her head, exasperated.

“I cannot see how it would work… – between us,” she added belatedly, finding this “us” very odd.

“Neither can I, but we will find out.” She ignored him.

“And I cannot see my father give his consent. He’ll think it… very strange that I should want to get married so quickly.” And yet even her dear papa would see that with Charlotte married well, her siblings’ chances to do likewise would rise significantly. And if he knew about the cove… 

“Again,” Sidney said, “we will have to find out. – And you’re of age. Technically, you don’t need your father’s consent.”

“Nevertheless, I would prefer to have his blessing,” Charlotte replied, remembering again how her father had told her to be careful, that these seaside resorts were odd places where the normal rules of conduct tended to be relaxed. But even relaxed rules of conduct did not sanction such incidents as the meeting at the cove.

“Very well. So is that a yes?” Sidney finally sat down again, searching her gaze, his expression a little impatient.

“No! No, of course not. The mere idea goes beyond all my principles!”

“Ah. Here we are again. Love and affection.” He leaned back. “Is it also part of your principles to be selfish, Miss Heywood? To take, but not to give back? To take all you can get from Sanditon, from my brother’s generosity and my sister-in-law’s hospitality, but to flee the scene once the waters get murky? Is your courage in words only and less in actual deeds?”

Charlotte had to gasp for air. Twice, in fact – it was the only way to keep herself from grabbing the poker from the fireplace and hurl it at Sidney Parker. Odious, presumptuous man! 

“If that is the way you fancy to woo a lady, Mr Parker,” she informed him, “I am no longer astonished that you have reached the age of thirty-one without any success in the matter.” His expression changed immediately, his lip curled: there he was again, the cold and arrogant man from the ball room’s balcony.

“Do not presume to know anything about my expertise in courtship and its consequences, Miss Heywood,” he retorted icily, turning away from her. He walked over to the fireplace, propped up his elbow on the chimney sill and rested his chin in his hand, staring into a distance – or a past – only visible to him.

Charlotte was looking at his back, lost for words. She remembered Mrs Parker saying her brother-in-law did not think highly about their sex: something having to do with a bruising experience in the past. Had she accidentally hit the one sensitive spot of Mr Sidney Parker? Had he been in love – and been wounded for his feelings? In short: was he a human being, after all?

“I’m sorry if I spoke out of tone,” she softly said, moving towards him. “I didn’t mean to… provoke hurtful memories.”

He remained silent for a while, keeping his back on her. When he finally turned around, she noticed a strange shimmer in his eyes, indicating an emotion she could not name but found deeply unsettling. 

“Hardly your fault, Miss Heywood,” he said, not meeting her gaze, his voice hoarse. “After all, we do know too little about each other.”

“Yes,” she agreed, wondering whether that meant the marriage topic was off the table – and if that was the case, why was she feeling a small pang of disappointment now?

“I presume no one, not even Mr Hankins, would advocate a rushed marriage that will provoke new questions about our motives,” Sidney said after a moment. “But if we agree on an engagement period that stretches until the end of the summer, we might… we might find the opportunity to get better acquainted with each other. And you’ll be free to terminate the engagement and return to Willingden if you’ll find the idea of marriage still repellent by the end of the season.”

“Terminate the engagement?” Charlotte repeated, frowning. To her ears, that was just another business term.

“That’s the lady’s prerogative,” Sidney said.

“Usually followed by a scandal, gossip and a tainted reputation.”

“It’s a backdoor,” Sidney admitted. “Suppose a small scandal and some gossip is easier to tolerate than married life in misery. You may sit it out in Willingden.”

“Why is it always the women that have to pay the price?” 

He shrugged his shoulders. “That’s the way the world is made, Miss Heywood. Unless you are a wealthy widow who can afford to follow the whims of her heart.”

Charlotte walked over to the window and gazed out onto the street. Just another busy Sanditon day, with tradespeople and workers hurrying past, housewives and servants doing their shopping, visitors and guests ambling along, and seagulls sitting on the rooftops, watching it all. Such would be her outlook every day if she accepted Sidney’s proposal: the bustle and excitement of a town in development, of a place where strangers and newcomers mingled freely with the locals. A place by the sea, a place of freedom and adventure, of sea-bathing and beach walks, of balls and events. 

Was it selfish to prefer Sanditon so very much to sleepy Willingden where truly nothing ever happened? Was it mercenary to consider all the advantages her marriage into society would bring to her family? Was it feeble to betray all her principles and accept a match that was based not on love and affection – or even compatibility – but the goal to save Sanditon’s reputation?

Yes, it was feeble. And it was mercenary. But it was also right to try and protect Tom Parker’s Sanditon and his family. How to weigh the one against the other?

And there was her family to think of. She could scarcely imagine her father’s reaction to the incident at the cove. Old school gentleman that he was, he would expect Sidney Parker to marry her, whether they liked it or not. That was why he had told her to be careful; that was what he had foreseen: Charlotte finding herself torn between what was deemed proper behaviour by society and what her conscience was telling her. He knew her too well, her dear papa.

But what if love and affection found her one day after all? If a gentleman caught her heart, someone like James Stringer, who was always friendly and attentive… but no. That was not very likely to happen. She would have her household to look after, and her friendships with Mary Parker and Georgiana, and maybe Alison for company, and as to love… well, she would have children, and she would love them, whatever her feelings for their father were. 

Children. Sidney Parker’s children as well. He had made it very clear that if this joke of an engagement were to go ahead, they would not have a sham marriage but a full union. They would be man and wife in every biblical and legal sense. She was still largely in the dark about the more intimate details of married life, but after twenty-one years of life on a farm, she knew enough to understand that children were not conceived by running away from a naked man on the beach. 

She leaned her forehead against the window, feeling the glass cool her flushed cheeks.

What an irony: that she had to get engaged now for something that was nothing but an innocent and unfortunate accident. And at the same time, Clara and Sir Edward Denham got away with their trysts because no other than Charlotte had kept her mouth shut about their secrets.

Was there any way to make a match with Sidney Parker actually work? That one sensitive spot that she had hit, that split second in which he had let his guard down when she had ridiculed his potential ways of courtship, the moment when he had spoken about children, and later admitting that he considered himself ill-suited for marriage: Was it just another deception? Or was it conceivable that behind that smelly tobacco cloud and underneath all those angry scowls and hurtful tongue-lashings, a different man was hiding? A man she would like to meet? Was there any chance if not for love and affection, then at least for respect and friendship? 

She caught Sidney glancing at her, his expression as impenetrable as ever. Mrs Sidney Parker.

The door was opened again. “Sidney, I can’t wait any longer.” Mr Parker marched into the drawing-room. “The idea of Doctor Fuchs alone with Lady D is driving me to distraction. And if you haven’t come to an understanding by now, I daresay you never will.”

Sidney, who had been waiting by the fireplace, looked at Charlotte. “Miss Heywood? Do we have an understanding?”

Charlotte turned around, meeting his cool, indifferent gaze. “We do, Mr Parker,” she said, her heart beating wildly. She saw his mouth twitch as he quickly looked down, then met her gaze again. Was that a smile she detected? Unlikely.

“Good,” he said.


	3. Misfortune

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for all your feedback! You are a wonderful group of readers - I cannot mention it often enough. Here's something I forgot to say before: as long as real-life does not interfere, I’ll update this story at least twice a week. 
> 
> Today’s chapter is a short one with some inspiration from Kate Riordan’s Sanditon novel – in some scenes, she gives us much more detail than what we saw on screen, and in this case, it was really helpful.

**_Previously:_ **

_Sidney discussing their potential marriage like a business transaction does not actually endear him to Charlotte. But when he lets his guard down for a second, she believes she is catching a glimpse of a very different personality. Is there hope for mutual love and affection after all? Pressured by Tom and feeling an obligation towards her family, she accepts Sidney’s proposal._

***

“Splendid!” Tom Parker cried, clapping his hands enthusiastically. “Excellent! Mary, Vicar… come in, there is happy news to celebrate. – I’m off to save the good doctor from Lady D and to relay the glad tidings of your engagement to her ladyship myself. When I come back, we’ll discuss all the details… a romantic wedding! What perfect way to promote our town!” 

Charlotte wanted to remark that this was not the speed in which she wished to proceed – and judging by Sidney’s expression, he was sharing her reserve. However, some hustle and bustle at the front door and in the hallway stopped her from voicing her concern. After a few moments, the missing half of the Parker siblings rushed in: Miss Diana Parker, a sorrowful expression on her round face, and Mr Arthur Parker, breathing hard and wiping something resembling mud off his chubby features.

“Oh brother, this is too awful!” Diana cried, and as Charlotte was standing closest to her, she grabbed her arm for support. Charlotte paused for a second – how could Miss Parker have heard about her brother’s betrothal? But Diana had a different awful event on her mind. “Doctor Fuchs has fled Sanditon!”

“What? That cannot be!” All joy about the happy engagement drained from Tom Parker’s face. “What has happened?”

“It was like an earthquake,” Arthur said, still slightly out of breath, shaking his head at the memory, his eyes large with horror, his eyebrows nearly touching his hairline. “I thought I might faint the way Lady Denham went after the poor man.”

“First, she accused him of bringing parasites into her home,” Diana explained. “They were, of course, just worms for enhancing the circulation of blood. I should have gladly volunteered for a demonstration, but Lady Denham was adamant she would not tolerate such creatures in her drawing-room. She called the doctor a quack and a fabulist of the most dangerous kind… how I wish you had been there to reign her in, brother!”

“This is most unfortunate,” Tom sighed, looking smashed. 

“We are taught to trust in the Lord as a healer of the soul as much as of the body,” Mr Hankins said, probably in an attempt to remind everyone of his presence. No one was listening to him, Arthur’s input being so much more interesting. “Doctor Fuchs then suggested Lady Denham tried his excellent vital essence – I used some of it on my face, and I can say I feel positively rejuvenated… but her ladyship was not convinced.”

“She claimed he was a travelling mountebank who knew nothing about the benefits of drinking seawater and donkey milk!” Diana cried, her large eyes even larger than usual. “But the good doctor insisted on massaging his essence into her hand, and then…” She shook her head, clearly in horror and despair when remembering the scene that had ensued. 

“It all went wrong,” Arthur explained, wiping a tear – or perhaps a bead of sweat – from his sturdy cheek. “It was a chain reaction. A most unfortunate chain reaction. My heart races at the mere memory… When Doctor Fuchs administered his cream, Lady Denham wrenched her hand away…”

“… so forcefully that the poor doctor stumbled backwards and hit the table with his concoctions and instruments and the worms, of course,” Diana continued the tale. “The table toppled over, and poor Miss Brereton…”

“…poor Miss Brereton had to jump backwards to save herself from a worm attack,” Arthur concluded.

“Only when she did that, she got herself entangled in the tarpaulin hiding Doctor Fuchs’s great innovation,” Diana took up the tale again. 

“The therapeutic shower-bath,” Arthur explained. “A magnificent apparatus. Though dangerously unstable, I daresay.”

“Dangerously unstable,” Diana repeated and shook her head in sorrow. “Poor Miss Brereton in her entanglement tore down the tarpaulin, and then Sir Edward rushed in to help her, but they both stumbled and crashed into the tub of the shower-bath, and the boiler kettle collapsed.”

“Thankfully not in their direction – they would have been boiled alive,” Arthur said, his expression mirroring the horror of the event. “But within moments, the drawing-room’s floor was flooded in hot water.”

“Oh, my God.” Tom Parker, pale as death, sank on the next chair.

“I nearly went deaf from the insults Lady Denham started hurling at the doctor,” Arthur continued. “And the poor man practically fled the stage and Sanditon.”

“Which was very unfortunate because apparently, Sir Edward sprained his ankle when he fell into the tub,” Diana added. “Oh brother, if only you had been there to guide Doctor Fuchs.”

“Very unfortunate,” Tom Parker echoed weakly. He looked very much as if he required a doctor himself now. “Very unfortunate indeed.” Holding his head between his hands, he breathed evenly until his usual face colour returned while his dearest wife stood by his side and squeezed his shoulder in support. “This is down to you!” he finally cried, turning to Sidney. “I knew I should have been there!”

“Tom!” his wife warned, and “Sidney?” his sister asked. Diana’s eyes, which were large and round by nature, grew even larger and rounder now. “What does Sidney have to do with this?”

“Nothing,” Sidney growled, his mouth twitching, his whole attitude breathing anger. _Nothing?_ Charlotte thought _. Is that what I am to him?_

“We only lost the doctor because I was being held up by Sidney’s affairs,” Tom clarified. 

Charlotte stepped forward. Unchivalrous as her newly betrothed’s manners were, she was not going to let him carry all the responsibility: they were in this together, after all. And they would be for a long time. But she was not going to let his cold behaviour guide hers.

“I am to blame just as much as your brother, Mr Parker,” she said. “Because you were held up on my account as well.” Sidney threw her a glance that did not exactly speak of gratitude. Diana stared from her brothers to Charlotte and back, her expression even more concerned than usual. 

“I don’t understand,” she said. “What is this about?”

Mr Hankins cleared his throat, reminding them all of his presence again. This was probably the moment he had been waiting for. “Mr Sidney Parker and Miss Heywood have become engaged and will solemnly confirm their union in the face of the Lord,” he gravely announced, sending a shiver down Charlotte’s spine. Solemnly confirm? Union? There was no union, clearly not, especially now that Sidney Parker looked as if he was going to throttle the priest. And in the face of the Lord? There was no way of betraying Him… He saw everything, even what had happened at the cove, and He probably also knew that so far, Sidney Parker had skipped every Sunday service at Mr Hankins’s church.

“Engaged!” Diana cried. “What a surprise!”

“Hooray!” Arthur beamed, clapping his hands. “We will be brother and sister then, Miss Heywood. How wonderful is that?”

“Very wonderful,” Charlotte quickly said, and indeed it was, for Arthur Parker was a kind soul who would always keep a toast fork on the fire and a bottle of brandy in the cupboard for those dear to his heart.

“I would ask you to refrain from spreading the word, though,” Sidney said, taking on his usual part as a killjoy. “Mr Heywood has yet to give his consent.”

“But surely, he will,” Diana said, pressing Charlotte’s hand. “Oh, such a fine match! And I’ll have another sister! Yet how strange… I never noticed you and Sidney being close, Charlotte. What fine actors you both are! Such excitement – might be too much for my nerves on one day… Oh, if only the doctor had not left.” 

But he had, and there was no chance of bringing him back – not after flooding Lady Denham’s drawing-room, nearly boiling Clara Brereton and leaving Sir Edward with a sprained ankle. Yet somehow, Tom Parker’s energy returned. The one positive aspect of having a head full of plans and projects was that when one scheme flopped, a diversion was quickly found in the next idea. “Tomorrow,” he announced, “tomorrow at first light, we are to leave for Willingden, Sidney.”

“We?” Sidney asked. 

“We.” His elder brother patted his shoulders. “Of course, I’m going to accompany you. Introduce you properly to Mr Heywood, make sure everything is handled with delicacy and decorum, remove any obstacles.”

“Very well,” Sidney mumbled, not meeting his brother’s – or his fiancée’s – gaze. He was probably considering how to present his business proposition to Mr Heywood. In all likelihood, Charlotte thought, he was going to tell her dear papa that if he invested in his eldest daughter’s marriage, the return for her siblings and her family would be promising and manifold.

At least she would not have to endure her father’s scrutiny: that was her fiancé’s challenge, and he well deserved it. Mr Heywood could be very stubborn as anyone knew who had tried to lure him more than five miles away from home. She would thoroughly enjoy the idea of Mr Sidney Parker being grilled in her father’s study while she would roam Sanditon without any fear of bumping into him.

“I shall call on you again for a thorough lecture of the Scripture, Miss Heywood,” Mr Hankins interrupted her pleasant thoughts. “We will concentrate on the passages pertaining to marriage and a wife’s duties. I believe our lessons will teach you to understand and prepare for your future role as your husband’s helpmate.”

“What a splendid idea!” Mr Parker cried, shaking the vicar’s hand. “We are so grateful, Mr Hankins,” he added as if religious teachings were just another pleasure to extend the long lists of Sanditon’s delights. Charlotte caught her fiancé quickly averting his gaze. Was that a smirk again? Of the two people in this engagement, only one needed Bible lessons, and that was not her. 

She excused herself some moments later, citing the letter she now had to write to her father. But sitting at the small desk underneath the window in her room, gazing at the beach and the sea and the seagulls circling in the sky, she found it hard to explain to her dear papa why Mr Sidney Parker was just the right gentleman for her to marry. After all, just as he had said, they knew too little about each other, and what little she did know about him did certainly not justify becoming engaged to be married. 

Esther Denham came to her mind, telling her to be on her guard, that Mr Sidney was unstable and unreliable, and that she would come regret ever setting foot in Sanditon. How wise Miss Denham was behind that haughty façade!

Staring at the empty sheet of paper in front of her, Charlotte felt a single tear roll down her cheek. It was all a terrible mistake, and if she did not want to find herself in the slavery of an unhappy marriage, she better returned down to the drawing-room right now and ended it before it was too late.

There was a light knock on the door, and “Charlotte?” Mary Parker softly called. 

“Come in,” Charlotte asked, wiping away the tears. 

“Oh my dear,” her hostess said. “I just wanted to make sure you are not crying your eyes out.”

“I’m fine,” Charlotte said. “Just fine.”

Mary moved closer, sitting down behind her on the bed. “He’s a good man, you know. He can be abrupt, but he’d never be outright cruel.” Unless you were making assumptions about his brothers, Charlotte thought. Or trying to apologise for those assumptions.

“And he’ll make sure you’ll be well provided for,” Mary went on. “Tom likes to reproach him for leaving everything until the last moment, but I’ve always believed that’s just because he has no one other to look after than himself. I believe he will change once he has someone to care for.” She leaned forward, taking Charlotte’s hand again. “In fact, I hope… I hope you might help him to think a little better of our sex again. Help him overcome his… disappointment. And lack of trust.” She sighed, shaking her head and squeezing Charlotte’s hand.

This was the second time Mary was referring to her brother-in-law’s disillusionment with women. Charlotte thought of those few moments during his proposal in which he had appeared nearly human, and of his statement that he believed himself ill-suited for marriage. She longed to simply ask Mary what exactly had happened to make him come to such a sad conclusion, but she feared that it would be indiscrete to do so. It would only add to his poor opinion of her if he found out that she was discussing his past life with his sister-in-law behind his back. If there was anything she ought to know, she better waited until Sidney Parker told her on his own behalf – even if that turned out to be never.

“It all happened so quickly,” she said. “It doesn’t feel real.” Mary gave her an indulgent smile.

“Once your father has given you his blessings, and the announcement is out in the paper, it will feel very real very quickly,” she promised. “And you don’t have to marry tomorrow. You may get to know each other a little better during the engagement period.” Then she turned serious, tentatively touching Charlotte’s arm. “Charlotte, my dear… if there is anything… anything you wish to know about married life, please consider me your confidante.”

“Thank you,” Charlotte whispered, blushing deeply. There was quite a lot she wished to know about married life – but for the moment, asking the related questions seemed to be even more impossible than asking what it was that had left her new fiancé disappointed in her sex.


	4. Persuasion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, you don’t cease to amaze me, you dear Sanditon sisters. Here I am, merrily typing away my stories, thinking that what you want to read is our handsome hero telling our lovely heroine something about being his best self etc., plus some happy / silly / fluffy Sidlotte banter. However now, three chapters into the fourth story, I come to realise that what you want, what you really, really want is not more Sidlotte, but a scene of Mr Hankins studying the Bible with Charlotte.  
> The vicar is most eager to follow your request. I am happy to comply, too. Unfortunately, though, whenever I mention the idea to Charlotte, she turns into a little… umm, seagull and flies away. I’ll see what I can do about it.

**_Previously…_ **

_When Arthur and Diana arrive on the scene, they have shocking news to relate: Doctor Fuchs’s demonstration at Sanditon House ended in disaster, leaving Sir Edward’s ankle sprained, the drawing-room’s floor flooded, and Lady D enraged. The poor doctor flees Sanditon._

_Charlotte struggles with explaining her engagement in a letter to her father, and Mary once again alludes to mysterious events in Sidney’s past._

***

Sidney would have preferred to arrive in Willingden alone and on horseback, but since he was going in Tom’s company, and any horse turned nervous the moment Tom Parker climbed on it, they had to take the family coach. Being confined with his brother to the coach compartment meant that he had to listen to Tom’s idle talk about plans, projects and pagodas without any hope of escape. 

He was sure that he was in no need of Tom’s assistance, support or input when meeting Mr Heywood. How difficult could it be to convince a gentleman farmer of limited means (but with twelve sons and daughters to provide for) that marrying his eldest child to an affluent businessman was a clever investment for the remaining eleven? An investment yielding manifold profit for all of them; a gift from heaven for the Heywood family. Speaking of heaven: Sidney remembered the look on Charlotte’s face when the vicar suggested reading the Bible with her, and he could not help but smirk. No doubt she would try anything to escape those lessons.

“How good to see you smile, brother,” Tom remarked. “Thinking about your lovely Charlotte?” he added with a wink. Sidney turned off the smile and gazed out of the window.

They were now approaching the countryside around Willingden. Tom’s focus changed: There was a bend in the rough lane leading to the Heywood family’s abode, and there was a copse, and just beyond it – here, actually, right here – was the spot where the Parker coach, going way too fast, had hit on something and was overturned. “And that’s the hill your Charlotte came charging down to save us,” Tom added, pointing the tip of his cane at an elevation beyond the road. No Charlotte there now, just a flock of sheep munching good green Sussex grass and bleating happily in the sunshine.

_Your Charlotte_. Whether it was due to his quick adaptability to new circumstances, another symptom of Tom-ness or just an attempt to repeat a lie often enough to make it became the truth: Tom had already convinced himself that the connection between his brother and his summer guest was nothing but a love match and Charlotte Heywood therefore _Sidney’s_ Charlotte. Strange as it was, Sidney did not want to reject the notion of Charlotte being _his_ completely. 

He was in little doubt about her motives for accepting him – economic safety for her family, a reputation intact and a future for Sanditon. When he pondered his own reasons for fulfilling the vicar’s demands, however, he had to admit that lingering beyond the duty he owed to his family was the undeniable fact that he was attracted to Charlotte Heywood. Physically attracted, mind you, not emotionally. The last time he had been emotionally attracted by a woman was ten years ago. He had no wish to repeat the experience. 

Charlotte Heywood, though: The prospect that she was going to be his wife was surprisingly agreeable. She had born his talk about children rather coolly: no terrified shrieks of the innocent virgin that she undoubtedly was, no girlish giggling. Just some blushing, which was entirely justified, given his bluntness with the subject. 

He found himself wondering what it would be like to make love to her. Not a rich society widow seeking moments of passion from a younger lover. Not a girl at Mrs Harries’s establishment, paid for the shallow and short-lived joys she was providing. But his very own, legally married wife. Mrs Sidney Parker. Maybe it would be more real with her, more lasting, more satisfying. As long as he managed to keep Charlotte from making assumptions about him. That, he feared, would put an immediate end to any pleasure.

Though she did have a vivid, intelligent mind. Yes, she gave her opinion too freely, too openly, but on the other hand: she was not too shy to have an opinion in the first place. She was no perfectly accomplished little doll, like Clara Brereton. Neither was she proud and haughty like Esther Denham, who seemed to believe being the step-daughter of a baronet’s second son set her aside from the rest of the world. 

And she was not… well. Like Eliza.

Charlotte Heywood was completely herself: outspoken, artless and innocent. And very often too much of all that.

“Ah, there’s the river,” Tom announced. “We are nearly there.” They crossed a small stream on an ancient stone bridge and turned into a walled alleyway. 

“At last, the Heywood residence,” Tom declared, using a very kind description for a timber-framed building that looked as if several houses had been shoved together to form one family home. Were it at Sanditon, Tom would not hesitate one second and knock it down to make room for a state-of-the-art apartment building.

In the cobblestoned courtyard in front of the house, a group of dark-haired children, boys and girls alike, played a game of cricket, whizzing off the pitch once they saw the four-horse carriage heading for their playing field. “They are very good and hospitable people,” Tom said, patting Sidney’s arm. “Frank and honest, like your Charlotte.” Sidney rolled his eyes. If only his brother would stop talking as if theirs was a love match of two kindred spirits. 

Tom, who knew how to make an entrance, waited for his footman to unlock the coach door and fold down the step before he appeared in the door. “Mr Heywood! How good to see you again!” he beamed, lifting his cane and opening his arms. He was addressing a middle-aged, bearded gentleman in the attire of a country squire who was waiting on the doorstep of the timber-framed-house: Charlotte’s father, the gentleman who famously never went more than five miles away from home. At least, Sidney thought with some relief, his own choice of boots and leather waistcoat for the journey fitted rather well into the rustic environment.

“Mr Parker,” Mr Heywood said in a sceptical tone his future son-in-law found surprisingly endearing. “Is everything alright with Charlotte? Are you bringing her home?”

“Your daughter is as happy and healthy as a young lady can be,” Tom said, cordially shaking Mr Heywood’s hand. “In fact, I’m carrying letters for you and for Miss Alison here close to my heart.” He tapped at the relevant spot of his coat. 

“Good.” Mr Heywood sighed a breath of relief, then eyed Sidney. “And this gentleman is…”

“… my younger brother Sidney. – Sidney Parker, businessman, of London and Antigua.”

“Mr Parker,” Mr Heywood said, offering Sidney his hand. Charlotte’s father had a firm handshake, and his fingers bore the calluses of a man used to physical work. Yet his demeanour was that of a gentleman. “May I invite you to come in for a refreshment?” he asked. 

“Very kind of you, sir, very kind indeed.” Tom bowed. “I keep telling Sidney how lucky Mrs Parker and I were to have fallen amongst such hospitable friends after our… our road adventure.”

Mr Heywood merely nodded and led his unexpected guests into the house and through to a large and airy panelled room that seemed to serve both as the family’s dining and drawing-room. Mrs Heywood, a calm and soft-spoken lady, came to greet the new arrivals and gave instructions for refreshments to a dark-haired girl of seventeen or eighteen: the famous Alison, Miss Heywood’s closest sister and confidante. Confidante enough to know about Charlotte’s unfortunate clashes with her host’s brother? Sidney wondered as Mr Heywood offered his guests the best chairs close to the fireplace. But if Alison Heywood knew something, she did not show it. 

Sidney looked around. The room’s furnishing was simple and obviously chosen for practicality and durability rather than taste and elegance. There was a bowl of apples on the table and a vase with a bouquet of wildflowers in the window. The place was light and friendly and impeccably clean. Yet try as he might, Sidney could not imagine Charlotte sit anywhere here with her piano and her embroidery, waiting for someone to come along and take her off her parents’ hands. In fact, the Heywood family did not even seem to own a piano. And besides, Charlotte was not the waiting but the meddling type. How terribly he had misjudged her – while telling her off for her own judgements. 

“So,” Mr Heywood asked as his wife, assisted by Alison, went about pouring tea. “What news about Charlotte? How is she doing?” 

“Excellent,” Tom said. “Miss Heywood is a true asset to Sanditon society, easily making friends with our highest and mightiest – Lady Denham, that is.”

“I’m pleased to hear it,” Mr Heywood said, and so was his wife, who, along with Alison and some more dark-haired children, had taken a seat by the family table and listened in on their conversation. 

“And she has done miracles to my administration and shows a most unusual energy and expertise in regard to our construction work,” Tom went on. 

Mr Heywood smiled the smile of a proud father. “Well, that is our Charlotte you are talking about, sir. Always moving forward. She’s been helping me with the estate since the day she managed to scribble her name. Practically organised the renovation of our workmen’s cottages all by herself.”

_Piano and embroidery_. Sidney groaned. He was lucky she had not shoved him off the balcony for that. Mr Heywood leaned forward.

“Is anything ailing you, sir?”

“No… um, no.” Sidney took another sip of tea: hot and strong and bitter. He was craving something more substantial to fortify himself for the conversation ahead. Crowe’s hip flask would be useful right now, he thought, realising that his business proposition would be more difficult to sell to Charlotte’s father than expected.

“You were saying that you’re carrying letters for us?” Mr Heywood turned to Tom. 

“Indeed I do, sir.” Again, Tom tapped the spot over his heart where Charlotte’s letters were buried in his jacket. “But there is a matter we would wish to discuss first… in fact, a matter that requires a certain privacy.”

“I see,” Mr Heywood said, standing up. “We shall retire to my study,” he suggested, casting a severe side glance at the table where the children started giggling as if they had found a Beaufort sister amongst them. Even Mrs Heywood, a very quiet lady, looked rather intrigued now and eyed Sidney with fresh interest when he followed her husband outside.

Mr Heywood’s study was located down the corridor, away from the buzz of the family’s drawing-room: a neat office with shelves attached to every wall and even underneath the window, holding diligently labelled document files – probably regarding the estate – and a well-assorted library with a focus on philosophy, encompassing everything from the eminent ancient Greeks to contemporary thinkers.

_Piano and embroidery_? Sidney thought again. Books and studies, more like. No wonder Charlotte’s conversation was so different from any other lady’s in Sanditon. With a small sigh, he settled down on the chair Mr Heywood offered, imagining her here at the desk, bent over a heavy tome full of knowledge, exchanging ideas with her father. And no wonder that she felt so free and confident to share her opinions.

“Now you’ve got me on tenterhooks, Mr Parker,” Mr Heywood said to Tom, an amused twinkle in his eyes. “What is the matter that requires a certain privacy to discuss?”

Sidney felt that maybe it was his turn say something now, though he had no idea what that might be. The whole business transaction idea suddenly seemed ridiculous. Fortunately, it was Tom who took the lead, clearly enjoying the suspense of the situation.

“It is about Miss Heywood, of course,” Tom announced with a meaningful smile. “Or, as Mrs Parker and I hope to call her very soon, our dear sister Charlotte.”

“I don’t understand.” Mr Heywood kept a perfect composure, not one single nerve in his wrinkled face twitching treacherously. “Charlotte is one of many siblings already.”

“Yes.” Tom laughed, a little too nervously, glancing at Sidney, who found himself completely tongue-tied. This was not going to work. Mr Heywood was no fool. He would see through their motives, and he would not only deny his blessing but also demand his daughter’s immediate return to Willingden. “We hope,” Tom went on since Sidney so obviously would not, “to welcome your daughter into our family through the holy bonds of marriage.”

“Ah,” Mr Heywood said, still appearing not to be remotely impressed. “Maybe your brother has to say something on the matter, Mr Parker?” he asked, turning to Sidney.

Sidney felt his mouth twitch, as always when unwilling to do what others expected of him. “I… um, I have come here to… ahem… in fact, Miss Heywood…” This was worse than ten rounds of boxing against Brighton’s champion. Mr Heywood kept looking at him dispassionately, and even Tom did nothing now to help him. How could this be so difficult? It was only words, after all. He settled his gaze on one of the volumes on the shelf behind Mr Heywood. _HERACLITUS_ , the golden letters embossed on the spine said.

“I wish to marry your eldest daughter, Mr Heywood,” he told Heraclitus. “And I have come here to ask for your blessing.”

“I see,” Mr Heywood said. “I was actually not aware of your courtship, Mr Parker.”

“But do we always have to go according to the rules of courtship?” Tom asked, clearly exasperated at his brother’s lack of enthusiasm. “When sometimes, a connection is so evident, so clear that all we have to do is to take one bold step to find perfect happiness?” Mr Heywood gave Tom a slightly irritated look. 

“I understand it is your brother who wishes to marry my daughter, sir, not you,” he said. “And even though Charlotte is my first child to be married, I believe the general custom is for the gentleman to back up his wooing with some compliments about the lady. – You may wish to praise her appearance, her conversation or her skilful needlework, Mr Parker,” he added, addressing Sidney. 

“I believe Miss Heywood is not much given to needlework,” Sidney said before thinking. Her father, however, nodded.

“No, in fact, she is not. Much to the sorrow of her mother.”

“But very well-read,” Sidney went on, feeling safer now. “Which shows in her vivid conversation.”

“Again, you are right. And again, much to the sorrow of her mother. – Any comment on her appearance, Mr Parker?”

“None other than that she is loveliness herself,” he said without thinking. He regretted it immediately. What a silly thing to say. Or was it? It was definitely more sensible than telling the man how much he admired his daughter’s cleavage. And Charlotte’s father seemed to be pleased: his nod clearly meant approval. 

“Very well, sir. You have ticked all the relevant boxes. I suppose now is the moment for the hopeful suitor to present himself to the prospective father-in-law. – I understand you are not based in Sanditon, sir?”

“I’m not, no,” Sidney said, feeling more confident now. Presenting himself to a potential new business partner: that was something he was used to. “I’m conducting my affairs from London. – We have a family home in Bedford Place.”

“And your businesses are…”

“Import. Export.”

“From here, there and everywhere,” Tom merrily added. Mr Heywood frowned.

“Forgive me for asking so bluntly, Mr Parker. – Are you in the sugar trade?”

“I was. I have renounced that trade long ago.” Yet it sticks to me like too sweet syrup, he realised. Like the memory of El… no. Very wrong place and time to waste a thought on her.

“My brother also has an investment in our Sanditon venture,” Tom explained, seeing that Sidney was distracted. 

“I can’t really see Charlotte in London,” Mr Heywood said. “She’s a country girl, through and through. She might be happy in Sanditon, with the sea beneath her feet and fresh air in abundance… but city life: no. That’s not for her.” This was not a good moment to tell Mr Heywood about the plan to set up a house for Charlotte in Sanditon while her future husband would be leading his life apart from her in London. 

“All in all,” Mr Heywood said, leaning back in his chair, “I thank you for coming here, Mr Parker, and I value your… efforts at convincing me of your passion for Charlotte…” (was that an eyebrow lifted in irony?) “… but I cannot give my blessings to the match.”

“What?” Tom cried, and Sidney felt his mouth twitch, wondering why he was hit by a pang of disappointment when what he should be feeling was relief. “But Mr Heywood,” Tom went on. “This cannot be your last word. Do you seriously want your daughter and my brother to become star-crossed lovers?”

“If only I were to see any love,” Mr Heywood said. “No offence meant, Mr Parker.” He turned to Sidney. “I’m disposed to believe in your admiration for Charlotte’s conversational skills and her pleasant appearance. Upon my own experience, however, a good marriage should be based on more than momentary infatuation.”

Momentary infatuation? What was the man talking about?

“And I want a _good_ marriage for my daughter,” Mr Heywood continued. “You understand that, don’t you, Mr Parker?”

“I do,” Sidney mumbled but was drowned out by his brother. “Yet we haven’t heard the lady’s opinion on the matter,” Tom declared and pulled Charlotte’s letters from his jacket: one for Alison, one for her father, and… why was there a third? Who was the third one for? Or had Charlotte written two different versions? 

Tom checked the address lines before returning two letters to his pocket. He then placed the third one on Mr Heywood’s desk like a trump card, a confident smile on his face. 

Mr Heywood eyed first the letter, then Tom suspiciously. “Have you read it?” he asked. 

Tom raised his hands in innocence. “Of course not, sir. But I trust in your daughter’s sound and sensible judgement.” 

Sidney tried to read his brother’s expression as Mr Heywood put on his reading glasses, opened the letter’s seal and unfolded the paper. Did Tom really not know what the letter said? Or had Charlotte told his brother? And if Charlotte had told Tom, why had she not told him? He was supposed to be her fiancé, after all. Another unexpected pang hit him. Jealousy? Ridiculous. 

Mr Heywood read Charlotte’s words carefully, sighing once or twice, furrowing his brow, casting more than one thoughtful glance at his daughter’s suitor, nodding or shaking his head here and there. When he was finished, he reread the whole letter, folded it, put it in his pocket, and gazed out of the window for a long while.

“Very well,” he finally said, taking off his reading glasses and addressing Sidney. “Would you care to accompany me for a walk, Mr Parker?” 

Sidney followed his host outside, leaving Tom to entertain Mrs Heywood and her youngest children. In the courtyard, the elder siblings had resumed their cricket game, bowling, batting and running enthusiastically and without much consideration of their father and his guest. “Careful,” Mr Heywood warned when Sidney had to duck from a misdirected ball. He turned around and found the famous Alison smirk at him, shrugging her shoulders in a mock apology. These Heywood girls were quite a handful. 

“This way,” Mr Heywood said, walking down the stone-walled alley. Within moments, they found themselves surrounded by a flock of geese gaggling angrily at the intruders. A young shepherd boy hurried by, tugged his forelock to Mr Heywood and tended his flock away. “Country life,” Mr Heywood said with a smile. “I suppose you are used to a different lifestyle, Mr Parker?”

“I know something about life at sea and life in the colonies,” Sidney said, wondering whether he was coming across as a spoilt city boy who could not take a hardship – despite the leather waistcoat and the fact that he had forgotten to get a shave this morning.

“I see. You are well-travelled then?”

“Mostly in the Caribbean, but yes, I have come around a bit.”

“Charlotte has never been away from home before,” Mr Heywood said, leading the way down to the stone bridge. “I did not mean to doubt your choice of lifestyle, Mr Parker, but your experiences of life and its challenges are very different from hers. - Fact of the matter is, sir, I’m faced with a conundrum.”

“As to what?” Sidney asked.

“I know my daughter.” Mr Heywood was leaning against the bridge’s stone parapet, looking down into the tumbling water that vanished under the two bows. “I know she can be headstrong and opinionated, but I also know her to be kind, courageous and principled. So principled that only the deepest love and affection for her suitor would make her accept an offer of marriage.”

“Yes,” Sidney said, grateful he had not to tell an outright lie now. “We have… discussed that principle.” Mr Heywood acknowledged his words with a nod.

“And yet, I receive this letter from her asking me for my blessings for her engagement to you, and I receive you, Mr Parker, informing me that it is your wish to marry Charlotte.” Sidney felt his mouth twitch and wondered what exactly it was that Charlotte had told her father in that letter. “I don’t mean to be presumptuous,” Mr Heywood went on. “But I do wonder: how can such a deep attachment be formed within the course of just a few weeks?”

And as Sidney merely kept staring into the water – for he had no better answer to that question than that he did not consider himself an expert in matters of love and affection – Mr Heywood went on: “Which leaves me with the painful assumption, Mr Parker, that something untoward has happened.” The man was as observant as his daughter. 

“No one in Sanditon would doubt Miss Heywood’s integrity,” Sidney quickly said. 

“But her reputation –”

“Her reputation is spotless. As my brother said… She is quickly making friends. My ward, for example, -” Mr Heywood looked up. 

“You have a ward, sir?” 

Sidney realised that Georgiana might become his lifesaver in this. What better character reference than the wardship of an heiress with a fortune worth one hundred thousand pounds? “Miss Georgiana Lambe,” he said. “The daughter of a late business partner of mine. She’s a little younger than Miss Heywood and… um, very much in need of the sort of guidance a guardian cannot provide. I trust your daughter has mentioned her in one of her letters.”

“I believe she has,” Mr Heywood said. “Though Alison might be more acquainted with the details. A young lady from Antigua, am I right?”

“Exactly.”

Mr Heywood furrowed his brow. “Very well. So I am to believe that Charlotte’s friendship with Miss Lambe has furthered a bond with her guardian?”

“Miss Heywood fully well knows her own mind, sir. We would not be having this conversation without her authorisation,” Sidney said, hoping to change the subject.

“Indeed we would not,” her father agreed. “And you seem to be knowing your own mind as well. I assume you are enjoying vivid conversations, the two of you?”

“We do,” Sidney confirmed. Again, it was not an outright lie.

“May I be so bold as to ask why you are not settled and married yet, sir?” Mr Heywood said. “A man of your age and means…”

Sidney felt his mouth start to twitch but managed to control the impulse and turn it into a half-smile. “I spent seven of the last ten years abroad, building my businesses from scratch. Marriage was not much on my mind during that time.”

“But now that you have returned to England, it is?” Mr Heywood cocked an eyebrow. Sidney decided to study the stonework of the bridge instead of meeting his host’s gaze. 

“Yes,” he said. “It is on my mind, now that I have the means to support a family and offer my wife a comfortable home.” Again that was no lie: marriage was on his mind whenever he thought of Tom’s happiness. The adoration in Mary’s eyes, that readiness to forgive whatever folly entered her husband’s wild mind! That unconditional love Alicia, Jenny, Henry and even little James were ready to prove anytime! Sidney did not doubt that Tom would be only half the man he was without Mary and the children. Sometimes, it made him wonder which version of himself he might become with the right woman by his side. And whether such a woman existed.

“Hm,” Mr Heywood said after a while of quietly watching the river. He moved over to the other side of the bridge, where the river and the outlook were basically the same: green hilltops with sheep bleating across the hills. “I’m not blind to the fact of how advantageous this match would be for Charlotte. And her family, in fact. As I expect you to be not blind to the fact that there will be not much of a dowry.”

“I can afford the luxury to choose my wife based on herself, not on her dowry,” Sidney said, wondering immediately whether that was the silliest thing he had said during the entire conversation. Mr Heywood, however, seemed to like his reply. He acknowledged it with another nod, then put on his reading glasses, took out the letter from his pocket and started studying it all over again. Try as he might, Sidney couldn’t decipher anything of Charlotte’s handwriting.

“I can’t see how this makes any sense,” Mr Heywood finally said, pocketing the letter in his waistcoat. “But I can’t see either how I might keep you two apart if you both are so determined to go through with your engagement. So I ask you again, Mr Parker: Do I have to fear for Charlotte’s reputation?”

“No, sir,” Sidney said. Now, this was a lie – but was it really a lie if it was meant to protect Miss Heywood? Her father sighed deeply.

“Only promise me to be careful, Mr Parker. I will not suffer to see my Charlotte hurt by love.”

“I promise,” Sidney said, feeling oddly solemn as he shook the other man’s hand.


	5. Casualties

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back! It's another quiet Sunday afternoon in my part of the world - perfect for some Sidlotte escapism, I think.  
> I just managed to catch up with yesterday's Twitter conversation #CoveFic and I can safely say that all of your questions regarding letters, motives and She Who Must Not Be Named will be answered. In good and perfect time though - not today. Today it's time to shake things up a bit.

_**Previously...** _

_Faced with girls playing cricket in Willingden and a missing piano, Sidney realises how terribly he has misjudged Charlotte. Despite many question marks, Mr Heywood gives his blessings to the match. Charlotte’s letter to her father seems to play a role in his decision._

***

“But you said you did not like him!”

“No, I really… I cannot quite explain it, Georgiana.” Charlotte sighed, feeling way out of her depth and very much left alone. Their mission in Willingden accomplished a few days ago, the Parker brothers had not returned to Sanditon but gone up to London: Tom Parker claiming some appointments with his bankers and the search for a new physician, Sidney Parker claiming his business and the announcements that needed to be placed in the papers.

There was no way back once the engagement of Mr Sidney Parker and Miss Charlotte Heywood was advertised to the world – or at least to the part of the world reading London newspapers. Charlotte was all too aware of it. She desperately wanted to explain everything to Georgiana before her friend heard the news from a giggling Beaufort sister or a gleeful Mr Hankins.

But somehow, it all went wrong. She had never expected Georgiana to be excited or happy about the match, but now she was outright angry, glaring at Charlotte. “It was all a lie! You were trying to gain my confidence, spying for him!”

“No, Georgiana! That’s nonsense, and you know it.” If only Georgiana’s guardian had returned directly from Willingden, relaying the news personally to his ward… But so far, he had only sent kind regards in Tom Parker’s latest letter to Mary. That was all.

“How am I supposed to trust you now?” Georgiana asked. “You said you find him very impolite and cold, and _he_ called you a bad influence. What do you want me to believe? That you woke up one morning, thinking: oh, maybe he is not that disagreeable after all? Or that you decided that selling yourself into slavery and becoming his property might be bearable as long as it is sugar-coated with a fine income and access to the beau monde? What happened to mutual love and affection, Miss Heywood?”

“Nothing,” Charlotte replied. “I still believe…”

“I really don’t care what you believe. Either you’re engaged to Sidney Parker, or you stand by your word.” Georgiana looked the other way. 

“Sometimes, first impressions deceive us,” Charlotte carefully said after a few moments of agonising silence. “And sometimes, things are not quite the way they seem. There is…”

She was interrupted by a quick knock on the door. “Georgiana. Another visitor,” Mrs Griffiths announced.

Clara Brereton walked in, looking very lovely with her blonde curls, blue eyes and a pink flush on her porcelain skin. “Miss Lambe… I hope I do not disturb you….” The ladies stood and curtsied to each other. “And Charlotte. I did not expect to see you here,” Clara smiled.

“Miss Heywood is about to leave,” Georgiana announced, sitting down again and inviting her new guest to do likewise. 

“Such a pity.” Clara looked at Charlotte, who tried her best to keep her expression neutral. She had considered Miss Brereton a friend once, but ever since the disturbing incident with Sir Edward Denham in the deer park and the strange conversations at the ball, she found it difficult to trust her. Georgiana’s outspoken honesty was far more to her taste – but now, it seemed, that friendship was another price she had to pay for her engagement.

“I was running errands in town for Lady Denham,” Clara explained. “And I thought I might call on you, Miss Lambe, and see how you are settling in.”

“Thank you, Miss Brereton. That’s very kind of you.” Georgiana shot Charlotte a look that said: Why are you still here?

“Oh, please call me Clara. I feel we have so much in common… cast away from our homes as we both are… and I’m sure you wish to hear about the fiasco that was Doctor Fuchs’s demonstration…”

“Miss Heywood?” Georgiana asked. “Didn’t you say Mrs Parker was expecting you?”

“Yes.” Charlotte nodded. “Of course. How could I forget my obligations to the Parker family? Goodbye, Georgiana. Clara.” She curtsied and quickly left the room, leaning against the door from the other side for a moment, fighting down the tears of humiliation. 

“Miss Heywood?” Mrs Griffiths had appeared out of nowhere. “Is everything alright with you?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I’m… I think it’s just hay fever.”

“Hay fever?” the governess repeated. “In a sea climate? Now, that is very strange. I hope you don’t need a doctor.”

“I won’t,” Charlotte promised, thinking that at least her affliction was not a contagious one. 

Down in the street, she stopped when she saw the vicar a few steps ahead of her, walking purposefully towards Trafalgar House, looking even from behind very eager to deliver his teachings to his new pupil.

Charlotte immediately turned around and walked in the opposite direction. First Georgiana’s rejection, now a lecture on her duties as Sidney Parker’s wife according to Mr Hankins: that was too much punishment for one afternoon. What a hopeless mess this engagement was, leaving everyone with a mountain of questions and no answers whatsoever.

And yet her papa had given her his blessings. No easy decision for him; he had written her as much: that he respected her wishes and would not object to their marriage. Charlotte sighed. Letters were the easy part; explaining everything from face to face would turn into a challenge.

For a few moments during Sidney’s proposal, she had believed she saw a different man, a vulnerable man, someone she might come if not to love, then at least to like. Such a ridiculous notion! Even the seagulls, watching from the rooftops, seemed to be mocking her these days.

But she knew how to raise her spirits. Distraction was always easy to be found in Sanditon and nowhere quicker than at the construction site. 

The smile had returned to Charlotte’s face by the time she reached the poster wall promoting the many delights of the town: a rendition of Cinderella, Mr Thomas Parker’s bathing machines and an exhibition of a giant sea serpent, to name just a few. But the main delight was, of course, the miracle that was to be Waterloo Terrace. Now that Charlotte knew this was where Sidney Parker wanted to buy a home, she regarded the nearly finished buildings with new interest. 

“Miss Heywood!” James Stringer had detected her, lifting his hat and waving at her. “Well met.”

“Well met indeed, Mr Stringer,” she replied, answering his smile. A little chat about dormer windows and the choice of roof tiles was definitely more to her taste than a discussion with Mr Hankins about spinners, toilers and the entire flower garden. 

*

All the way back from London down to Sanditon, Sidney had been trying to ignore Tom’s conversation, which was a wild mix of enthusiasm (about the prospect of a romantic wedding), fear (that Lady Denham might work out the reasons for the engagement) and accusation (because he had not succeeded in finding a new physician for Sanditon and now blamed his brother for the loss of Doctor Fuchs). 

Sidney had hoped to work out his next steps with Miss Heywood, on how to relay her father’s words to her, how to discuss the future that, like it or not, they would face together now. Maybe apologise for _piano and embroidery_. Or even tell her that he did not regret their engagement as much as he had expected to. 

But that was obviously the wrong thing to say to one’s fiancée, however true it was. And then he realised that of the many wounds the Eliza affair had inflicted on him, the worst one was definitely that he had forgotten how to court a woman. How to be kind and attentive and pay a compliment. How to invite her for a dance, a walk or a carriage ride. How to feel anything but the greatest terror at the idea of trust, of opening up, of sharing his truest self with someone.

“Aaah,” Tom exhaled as the carriage was nearing the town. “Sea air! Sanditon air! Still better than any medicine or tonic!”

Sidney nodded, hoping that would suffice to make his brother shut up. He had to follow those previous thoughts. How to court a woman. Did he want to court Miss Heywood? And if so, would _she_ want to be courted? And what was the use of it since they were engaged already?

By the time the carriage drew up in front of Trafalgar House, he had come to the conclusion that maybe there was some profit in trying to rewrite his history with Charlotte Heywood. 

“Hello!” Tom cried merrily when, despite an open front door, no one came out to meet them. “We are back!” A terrifying cry of pain was the answer. “Oh! Wickens! What’s going on here?” 

Sidney followed his brother inside, finding himself facing a scene that was absolutely reminiscent of a battlefield. In the drawing-room, the table had been converted into a makeshift stretcher for an elderly man who was crying for his dear life in agony. Young Stringer was holding him down while Wickens was pouring Tom’s best liquor into his mouth, and Miss Heywood – his Charlotte – was using Mary’s finest table cloth to catch the blood that was streaming from a ferocious looking wound on the man’s leg. “He’s losing too much blood,” Charlotte said, not paying attention to the new arrivals. “Wickens, give me a hand here… Mary, we need more water… keep the children out – Mr Stringer, just tell him… tell him about the sweetest memories of your childhood…” She sounded like an admiral giving orders in a naval battle, and a battle it was, no doubt. 

“Oh, my God.” Tom paled, then stumbled and sank on the next chair. Sidney did not care. Dropping his cane, shedding his hat, coat and jacket and rolling up his sleeves, he was by his fiancée’s side. “What has happened? What can I do?”

“Just hold him down really tightly,” Charlotte said without so much as looking at him while applying a tourniquet on the smashed leg. “Mr Stringer has fallen off a ladder on the building site. We brought him here for treatment.” What did she have to do at the building site again? He had never heard of a woman so fascinated by bricks, tiles and mortar. Somehow, he had hoped their reunion would be a chance to… Old Stringer let out another howling cry of pain, and Sidney swallowed his annoyance. There were more pressing issues to tend to right now than his hopes and his fiancée’s choice of walks. 

“Mr Robinson has gone for the surgeon but –” she started, then cast a glance at Young Stringer. Sidney understood. If the surgeon did not arrive soon, his father would die from loss of blood. If the surgeon did arrive, he would probably declare the leg beyond saving. The Sanditon surgeon was a veteran from Napoleonic battlefields: he was known for not being fussy when it came to taking off a limb if it helped save the rest of the body. Either way, Old Stringer was about to lose either his life or his livelihood.

“This is terrible,” Tom mumbled somewhere in the background, and “Father!” Young Stringer cried as his father let out another blood-curdling groan. 

“Here’s the surgeon now!” Mary called from the door as a sturdy, bearded man pushed his way through, followed by Fred Robinson, Young Stringer’s second in command at the building site. 

“What do we have?” the surgeon asked, opening his leather bag and displaying all sorts of gruesome instruments.

“Mr Stringer has fallen off a ladder from a height of approximately ten feet,” Charlotte explained. “His lower right leg is broken. I’ve applied a tourniquet, but the bleeding won’t stop.” The surgeon nodded, putting on a leather apron and surveying the leg in question. If he was surprised to be briefed on the situation by a young woman, he did not show it. Maybe the years on the European battlefields had taught him not to wonder about anything anymore. 

“Well done, miss,” he said, testing the tourniquet. “The leg’s beyond saving, though, I’m afraid.”

“What?” Young Stringer let go of his father’s hand. 

“Sorry, young man. I’ve seen this too many times.”

“But…” Poor Stringer paled so quickly that Sidney hurried over to keep him from falling. Robinson took his place by his father’s side. 

“You cannot be serious,” Tom said from the background, then added: “If only we had a proper physician here at Sanditon!”

The surgeon turned away from his patient for a moment. “Sir, I have served on the battlefields of Corunna, Wagram, Jena, Auerstädt, Leipzig and Waterloo, to name just a few. I may not own the expertise to cure a lady’s cold or a gentleman’s headache, but I do recognise a smashed leg when I see it.”

Tom raised his hands in surrender. “I did not mean to doubt your aptitude for the task, surgeon. I was merely… considering our options for Sanditon.”

“If you think this is the appropriate moment to do so, sir,” the surgeon replied, returning to the table. “Now, as I said…”

“But that cannot be your last word!” It was Charlotte, of course, somehow managing to stare a man down who was one head taller than herself. “If you take his leg, he will lose his livelihood.”

“If he keeps his leg, he will lose his life. Can’t see how that would help him.”

“Please, sir,” Young Stringer pleaded. “My father is a stonemason. He cannot work with just one leg.” On the table, his father cried out in agony once more. Tom covered his ears.

“How can you be so cynical?” Charlotte turned to the surgeon again.

“I’m not cynical, miss. I’m a surgeon. I’ve learned my trade.”

“On the battlefields! But this is not a battlefield! This is Sanditon! This is a civilised society! You don’t have to hurry from casualty to casualty… this is just one man in need of your help. – Help,” she repeated, her eyes large, her expression passionate, her chest heaving with agitation. “Not service.” 

“Miss, this is hardly your business.”

“Is it not? It’s about a man’s livelihood! And you seem to be willing to condemn Mr Stringer to a life in poverty and dependency just because it will take more time to heal the leg than to take it off!”

The surgeon looked from Old Stringer to her. “Who are you again, miss?”

“I’m Charlotte Heywood. And the longer you wish to argue with me, the more Mr Stringer will suffer.” The surgeon shook his head, then eyed the leg a little closer. 

“You may build up a reputation,” she continued, calmer now. “As a surgeon. As a surgeon who rescues even the most hopeless cases.”

“What do you think?” the surgeon asked Young Stringer. “Do you accept the risk for your father if I try to set the leg?”

“I do,” Young Stringer said, nodding emphatically and staring at Charlotte as if he wanted to fall on his knees, kiss the hem of her dress, her hands and… probably even other parts of her anatomy. Time to get the announcements out, to make the engagement official, Sidney thought.

“This is going to be ugly,” the surgeon said. “You might want to leave, miss.”

“I’m not afraid of a little blood,” she replied. Sidney looked at Young Stringer, whose pleasant face showed a strange mix of sorrow and admiration at the same time.

“Come on, Mr Stringer,” he said, guiding the younger man towards Tom. “No one should have to see their father in such a state.”

“But…”

“My brother is right,” Tom agreed immediately, taking his foreman by his arm, probably grateful for an excuse to leave the scene himself. “Come with me, Young Stringer. We will wait this out in my office… divert ourselves with some fine new construction plans. Have you given the pagoda another thought?” – as if the pagoda were on top of the list of James Stringer’s cares right now.

“Well then,” the surgeon said, cleaning his hands. “Let’s get to work then, gentlemen… and… ahem, miss.”


	6. Confessions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for all your feedback. You seem to like jealous Sidney. So do I. He’ll be back. But first, there is another most pressing issue we have to attend to on our way to perfect happiness.
> 
> For some mysterious reason, the layout of this chapter was all messed up. I think it's sorted now, but in case someone stops speaking mid-sentence: just read on.

**_Previously…_ **

_Georgiana rejects Charlotte’s friendship when she hears about the engagement and welcomes Clara into her drawing-room. Sidney considers courting his fiancée, even though he has little idea how to do that. On their return to Sanditon, Tom and Sidney find Trafalgar House turned into a makeshift hospital. As Charlotte tries to save Old Stringer’s leg, Sidney realises he’s not the only one to admire her resourcefulness (and her cleavage)._

***

Charlotte found Young Stringer pacing up and down the office, not remotely diverted from his father’s sufferings by Tom Parker’s prattle about a pagoda, a seaside promenade and a fountain square for Sanditon. His strong hands clenched into fists, the foreman looked as if he was going to use them any moment – either against Tom Parker’s model of Sanditon or against his employer himself. His hands and his overall expression only relaxed when he noticed Charlotte.

“You can see your father now, Mr Stringer,” she said with a warm smile.

“Miss…” He grabbed for her hands, covering them with his, then, realising the impropriety of the action, let go of them immediately. “His leg…”

“The surgeon believes there is a chance of a recovery – but to which extent, he would not say.”

“We are so grateful, miss.” She returned his smile.

“Just go and see him, Mr Stringer. Mr Robinson is fetching a cart, and then you can bring him home.”

“Thank you.”

“What a welcome after our journey!” Tom Parker shook his head and drained a glass of sherry when his foreman had left for the drawing-room. “I had no idea you were so experienced in surgery, Charlotte.”

“Comes with many siblings and life on a farm,” she explained. “Someone’s always grazing their knee or falling from a tree.”

“Quite impressive, my dear, quite impressive.”

“I’ll just go and get changed,” she said, for her pretty white dress was not that white and pretty any longer. But when she turned around, she found herself face to face with her fiancé. 

“Mr Parker.”

“Miss Heywood.” 

Now that they were no longer fighting for Old Stringer’s leg, Charlotte was strangely tongue-tied. Yelling orders at Sidney Parker during moments of drama had been easy, and he had proven that he was a quick-thinking and reliable help when called upon in a crisis, not complaining about being ordered about by a woman. However, in essentials, he was still Sidney Parker, glaring down on her now from mysterious dark eyes. 

“But who will insist on such formalities now, Sidney, Charlotte?” Tom cried merrily. “In fact, it would seem very strange once the news of your engagement is out in the papers.” Charlotte saw Sidney’s mouth twitch as if the idea of using her first name was causing him physical pain. Or maybe hit was just his brother's meddling that he disliked.

“Let us move forward at our own pace, Tom, will you?” he asked. 

“Of course, of course. Only… I think… you and Charlotte are such excellent proof that happiness can be found on the shores of Sanditon…” Did he seriously believe they had found happiness? Charlotte wondered. She definitely had not and judging by Sidney’s expression, neither had he. Unperturbed, Tom Parker went on: “A large wedding party… that will work miracles on our reputation, don’t you think, brother?”

“I suppose Miss Heywood will wish to be married from her father’s house in Willingden,” Sidney said, nodding at Charlotte. Certainly, that was the custom, yet she had not expected him to be mindful of such details. 

“Oh, do you?” Tom asked large-eyed.

“I believe my parents will insist.”

“It may also add to the propriety of the occasion,” Sidney said. A young lady getting married away from home always implied that her family disapproved of the match. However, with his broody manners, disconcerting leather breeches and general disdain for decency, Charlotte had expected him to be precisely the type of man who did not care for such proprieties but would bundle his intended into a carriage and take her to Scotland for a quick wedding, no matter what the family said. A girl he had chosen for himself, of course. Not someone thrust upon him by a prudish clergyman.

“Then all we have to do now is to have the banns read and to set a date,” Tom determined, but before he could add another “Splendid” and proceed with the idea, Mary entered the office. A sorrowful looking Young Stringer was following her, accompanied by his sturdy friend Fred Robinson. 

“They are ready to leave now,” Mary said.

“Excellent,” Tom said. “Mr Stringer, all the best for your father. You shall see; he’ll be back to his best shape in no time at all.”

“I doubt it, sir, but thank you.” And turning to Charlotte and Sidney, the foreman added: “Miss Heywood… Mr Parker: thank you for… for everything you did.”

“I’ll call on your father in a few days,” Charlotte suggested. “Just to see how he is faring.”

“That would be very kind of you, miss.”

“Old Stringer had a lucky star shining on him, no doubt about that,” Tom declared, beaming at Charlotte. Fred, who had remained close to the entrance, looked up.

“A lucky star, sir? That man nearly lost his leg, and he’ll not be able to earn his living for weeks!”

“Fred,” Stringer quietly said, but Fred did not stop.

“And what was he doing on that ladder in the first place? He’s a stonemason, after all. He’s not supposed to be climbing up the scaffolding with a load of bricks. – Yet you know why he was up there, don’t you, Mr Parker?”

“Watch your tone, Mr Robinson,” Sidney warned. “You’re at your employer’s house.” Charlotte saw a vein throbbing on his forehead. But she also saw Tom Parker blush. 

“My employer!” Fred scoffed. “That same employer that has been promising more labourers for months without delivering any, forcing an old stonemason like Isaac Stringer to perform duties he’s not actually fit for? The same employer who has not paid us a penny in weeks?”

“What?” Sidney said.

“Tom?” Mary cried simultaneously, clearly aghast.

Charlotte wished for a second she could slip out of the room, but obviously, she could not: this was looking like a family matter, and she was a future part of that family.

Tom shrugged his shoulders, not meeting anyone’s eyes, his face a mess of nervous twitches. “A momentary situation. To be resolved as soon as the first houses are let.”

“Momentary?” Mary asked. “How can you be planning balls and weddings while our labourers don’t know how to feed their families, Tom?”

“Now you’re clearly over-dramatising, my dear.”

“I don’t think so, Tom,” Sidney said, very calm and severe now, turning to Stringer and Fred. “You will be paid; I give you my word on that. Please, see your father home, Mr Stringer, and come here again to meet me tomorrow in the morning.”

“Thank you, Mr Parker,” Stringer bowed his head.

When he and his friend were gone, Sidney turned to his brother again. “Now tell me what is going on here, Tom.” 

“Shouldn’t we be asking the ladies to leave?” Tom suggested.

“I don’t think so. Mary is your wife, and Miss Heywood is… my bride – don’t they deserve to know what they have let themselves in for?” Mary was in fact clutching Charlotte’s hand now, and Charlotte, feeling uncomfortable anyway because of her soiled dress and Sidney Parker’s presence, blushed at the word _bride._ Now, however, was not the moment for being over-sensitive.

Sidney made the ladies settle down in the armchairs in front of the fireplace while waiting for an explanation from his brother. Tom Parker kept pacing around the plaster model of Sanditon like a wild animal in captivity. “How bad is it?” he finally asked since his brother was not going to start the conversation. 

“It’s nothing beyond remedy. If only we attract the right kind of guests…”

“ _If_ ,” Sidney said. “The labourers are entitled to their pay _now_.”

“A physician for Sanditon would have been an important improvement… the right signal…”

“I fail to see how a physician would ensure Mr Stringer and his men are being paid on time,” Sidney said. Charlotte realised that he was quickly losing patience. If only Mr Parker would spill it out. And was he again trying to blame his brother for the unfortunate doctor’s flight? 

“Maybe we can make a list of your obligations, Mr Parker,” she suggested, hoping to find a solution for what was obviously a grave situation. “Sort them by date and urgency. Then we’ll have a general overview and sum up a total.” She was already by the desk, collecting the stack of invoices she had sorted a few days ago. Sidney shot her a gaze that was nearly appreciative.

“Labourers’ pay,” he said, taking the papers from her and leafing through them. “Suppliers’ bills… building materials… the musicians for the ball… Is that all, Tom? Is there anything else we should know?”

“Ah… well…” Mr Parker’s eyes were darting everywhere and nowhere – but never to his wife or his brother.

“I’m going to pay Stringer and his men tomorrow,” Sidney said. “And I’m going to take care of these,” he added, wielding the invoices and leaving Charlotte wondering how wealthy the sensible, successful brother – her future husband – actually was.

“Brother, I cannot ask that of you.”

“You don’t ask me. – I choose to do it. But only if you’re honest with me. So is there anything else we need to know?”

“Tom!” Mary beseeched him.

“There is… ahem… in fact…” Mr Parker coughed and blushed even deeper while he righted the severed head of an ancient statue that was lying on its side on the mantelpiece. To no avail: the head would not stay in the vertical.

“There’s what?” Sidney asked, impatient now.

“Well, there might be the matter of the insurance,” Mr Parker finally admitted, turning the colour of a beetroot now. 

“Which insurance?” Again, there was a vein throbbing on Sidney’s forehead. Charlotte knew little about insurances, but she knew for sure that her father, careful man that he was, had his property insured against hazards such as fire or lightning. He could not afford, he claimed, to have his large family left with nothing should the worst happen.

“The insurance,” Mr Parker explained, now searching his brother’s gaze as if all further information might be communicated through their eyes and not to the ears of the ladies. But Sidney Parker was not going to consider female sensitivities.

“Are you telling me that the Sanditon venture is not insured, Tom?”

“Technically, it is insured,” his brother said.

“Though the premiums have not been paid.”

“Leaving the insurance cover invalid,” Sidney filled in, blanching and nearly stumbling backwards against the plaster model of his brother’s dream of a seaside resort. Next to Charlotte, Mary moaned and held a hand to her mouth. “Tom…” she muttered, tears welling up to her eyes.

“My dearest…” her husband started, but she turned her head away from him, covering her face. 

“How much?” Sidney asked in a very calm voice – too calm, Charlotte thought.

“What do you mean?” Tom said, busying himself again with the severed head that would not stay upright.

“How much is Lady Denham’s investment?” Sidney clarified, impatiently tapping his thumb on the plaster model and nearly knocking over the lighthouse in the process.

Tom mumbled something unintelligible.

“I didn’t hear you!” his brother roared, making Charlotte shiver.

“Eighty-thousand,” the great projector clarified in a hushed voice, addressing the severed head.

Charlotte gasped. Eighty-thousand pounds? Was such a sum even possible?

“Eighty-thousand!” Sidney yelled, and with that yell, he seemed to grow and tower over his brother. “You are responsible for a development project worth an investment of eighty-thousand pounds, Tom, and you don’t even bother to take a safeguard against peril?” Tom did not meet anyone’s eye - not even that of his dearest wife. “What kind of businessman are you, brother?” Sidney went on. “Or are you no businessman at all but a reckless gambler?”

“Now this is very insulting, Sidney!”

“Insulting? You are insulting your investors! And your wife and children! What if a storm front hits Sanditon, destroying your building site? If there’s a flooding, damaging the foundations? If a fire breaks out and burns down half of the town?”

“You are painting a very black picture,” Tom said peevishly. “These insurance brokers are worse than highwaymen, you must know. They will tell you the end of the world is nigh and charge you accordingly.”

“I _do_ know!” Sidney shouted, and now Charlotte realised that the last time she had seen him so angry was back at the ball, when she had told him… oh. Had she actually told him that she believed Tom Parker was careless in his devotion to Sanditon? “I do know,” Sidney repeated, “because I take out insurance cover for my businesses as well. Because the highest premium is a better price to pay than subjecting your family to the misery of a debtor’s prison!”

Mary looked up, panic in her eyes. But Sidney was not going to be merciful: “Or where do you expect to end should Lady Denham call back her investment before the place yields any profit?”

Tom Parker opened his mouth but closed it again without saying a word, resembling a fish out of the water. Suddenly, Sidney turned to Charlotte. “You may wish to reconsider your consent to marry into this family, Miss Heywood. You may get out of the engagement honourably, claiming that you have been deceived about our financial situation.”

“But that would be most unfortunate in the present situation,” Tom Parker quickly said, wiping his forehead. “Sending the very wrong signals to our investors.” Sidney’s mouth twitched, and for a moment, Charlotte feared he would launch himself at his brother and beat the lights out of him.

“I’m not going to decide such a matter in the state of emotional turmoil we are all in right now,” she quickly said.

“Right,” Sidney nodded, calmer now. “Your decision. Just wanted to make you aware of the possibility. – Now, Tom. I need all details about the insurance. After my meeting with Stringer tomorrow morning, I’ll be heading straight back to London to sort that business out. – No,” he raised his hand, seeing his brother prepare for another objection. “I don’t want to hear anything from you. I’m going to bail you out of this, and in the meantime, you take care of your wife and family.” He gently squeezed Mary’s shoulder. Charlotte had another idea.

“But Mr Parker?” As both Mr Parkers looked at her, she turned to her Mr Parker. “If the building site is so vulnerable… maybe… maybe we should engage a watchman? During the night and for the hours the labourers are not there, at least until the insurance situation is resolved? Surely, it’s another expense, but…”

“Better safe than sorry.” Sidney nodded. “I agree.”

He agreed? With her? The situation must be really grave, or he in too deep shock about his brother’s actions, or probably both, if he voluntarily agreed with her. 

“Well then,” she said, blushing. “I’d… I’d like to go and change if I’m no longer needed.” Since it was obvious that she had to get out of the dress stained with Old Stringer’s blood, no one objected. 

How confounding everything was, Charlotte thought when she had retired to her room. She was standing by the window now, the change of clothes forgotten, gazing out at the sea and the seagulls circling towards the blurred horizon. Had her father known about the Sanditon venture’s volatility, he would not have given his consent to the marriage. She was sure about that. Tom Parker, acting so recklessly! Sidney Parker, taking charge of the situation so forcefully and resolutely. He was the sensible brother indeed, clearly knowing which path of action to take to resolve Mr Tom's predicament… even finding a backdoor out of the engagement they had trapped themselves in.

All she had to do now was open that door and walk through it. 


	7. Mediation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The only way I can thank you for all your feedback and support is by adding another chapter: so here it is.
> 
> I suppose you have locked the back doors to keep our Charlotte from making an escape?

**_Previously…_ **

_In the wake of Old Stringer’s accident, Tom’s debts come to light. Sidney steps in and promises to take care of the labourer’s pay and the outstanding insurance premium. Charlotte is impressed by his forceful and resolute manner but is thrown into doubt when Sidney points out that his family’s precarious financial status might open a door for her to back out of the engagement honourably…_

***

After a short and restless night in his room in The Crown, Sidney returned to Trafalgar House early the next morning, claimed Tom’s desk in the office and told his brother to entertain his wife and children. Then he rolled up his sleeves and immersed himself in the finances of the grand project that was the development of Sanditon – and more than once found his mind wandering into an entirely different direction.

Charlotte Heywood.

Would she take the bait he had offered her and back out of an engagement she had never wanted in the first place? And since he would be free of any obligation towards her if she did: Why did he not feel outright relief at the idea? 

Because in the mess and turmoil of the previous day, she had turned out to be a sound voice of reason. He could not think of many women of his acquaintance who would treat a smashed leg without fainting, shout at a battlefield-proven surgeon, stay level-headed when faced with financial disaster and even show the good sense to send a watchman to an exposed building site - all within one hour. 

Yet, however admirable her actions were: no man ever wanted to marry a woman who sounded like the voice of reason. A man in need of a voice of reason would turn to his mother. Or sister. Well, maybe even sister-in-law, in his particular case.

Men on the marriage path looked for accomplished women: someone like Clara Brereton, who would make a formidable housewife and provide a comfortable home – if one cared for the pleasures of piano and embroidery. 

Or they wanted to marry a woman because they were befuddled by her deceptive beauty: a woman like Esther Denham who would always pretend to despise her husband just to remain desirable to him.

Or they wanted to marry a woman because they were complete fools and believed they had found perfect happiness with the sweetest angel that walked the earth. _That_ type of woman he knew very well. The one smiling and simpering and flattering and whispering sweet promises. The one who made a man believe himself in heaven, only to drop him until he found himself in hell. The one who left a man paralysed, with a jaded heart and frozen emotions.

He sighed and looked up, realising belatedly that there she was: the voice of reason. The girl that knew nothing about piano and embroidery, the girl that was too honest to be deceptive, the girl that never simpered and flattered, especially if Sidney Parker was involved: his fiancée, standing by the plaster model of Sanditon, gazing at him timidly. He stood and bowed. “Miss Heywood.”

“Mr Parker.” She curtsied. Her voice was slightly husky, as he had noticed it to be when she felt cornered. “I’m sorry. – Good morning that is. I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

“You’re not disturbing me.” Indeed, she was not. Voice of reason or not, she was such a pleasant sight in her unpretentious white morning dress, wearing her hair parted sideways in her own unique style, the curls tumbling down on her shoulders, her complexion fresh and healthy with those tiny little freckles on her button nose, her eyes wide and shining, her lips full and rosy, the sweet little dimple in her chin only adding to the general charm of her countenance. “I’m actually glad to catch you alone for a moment,” Sidney said, clearing his throat. “We did not have the opportunity to talk yesterday.” 

“No,” Charlotte replied with a small smile. “We were all rather busy.”

“You were. And I must admit… you have given a good account of yourself. I should never have guessed you were so… resourceful.” _You have given a good account of yourself?_ Was it conceivable that, along with his jaded heart and frozen emotions, he had forgotten how to pay a woman a compliment? Especially an honest compliment that she fully deserved? 

But if his fiancée found his choice of words condescending, she was kind enough not show it. “Because I did not faint at the sight of a little blood? Or upon hearing about your brother’s debts?” she asked, a bright sparkle in her eyes, the small smile still on her lips.

“Because you saved a man’s leg and thought about guarding a building site worth eighty-thousand pounds?” he suggested. Somehow, the sudden blush on her face made his jaded heart feel very much alive for a second.

“Is that a compliment?” she asked.

“It is,” he confirmed. There was nothing flirty in her demeanour: of course, she had to make sure he was not going to rebuke her for unladylike behaviour or yelling orders at men before she accepted his praise.

“Thank you. But you were very helpful yourself.” _Helpful?_ He cocked an eyebrow.

“With Old Stringer or my brother’s predicament?” 

“Both. And especially since you seem to be the one paying the price for both incidents. – I think I owe you an apology, Mr Parker.” She was very serious now. Sidney cleared his throat again. Somehow, her large luminous eyes seemed even larger when she looked up to him like that. 

“You don’t owe me an apology, Miss Heywood.”

“But I do. When you discussed… when you discussed our… engagement as if it were a business proposition, I was stunned by your apparent lack of empathy and emotion,” Charlotte explained. “But yesterday, you offered so quickly to help your brother and to make sure the labourers are getting the pay they are due.”

“That’s a business proposition again, Miss Heywood,” he said levelly, walking over to the fireplace to get out of her sphere. Tapping the mantelpiece with his thumb, he added: “I have an investment in Sanditon as well. Small, compared to Lady Denham, who is the principal financier, but there it is. If the venture goes down, so does my investment… and my reputation, should my brother end in debtor’s prison.” A cute little frown appeared on her face.

“Is that really all you are thinking about? Business and profit and your reputation?” _Cute?_ Sidney cleared his throat. As a side-effect of being engaged, he was obviously going soft in his head.

“No. It’s not all I’m thinking about. But it’s an area of thinking I’m feeling comfortable with. – Have you considered yesterday’s offer?” he added before she could inquire which areas of thinking he was _not_ feeling comfortable with.

“I have, but I haven’t come to a decision yet. You’ve met my father… I’m sure it wasn’t easy to get his blessing.”

“It was not, no. He turned me down the first time and only agreed after he had read your letter.” Again, Sidney wondered what she had written in that letter. And why there had been a third letter. But since they were discussing ending the engagement now, it seemed pointless to ask. 

“And after that difficulty and urgency, and with the announcement due in the papers today, how am I to explain to my family that it was all a mistake? That it’s over before it actually began?” Charlotte sighed. “I have written to Alison. I’ve asked her what Papa thinks about the engagement, now that he’s had time to get used to the idea, and how he might react if I end it.” 

Of course, the famous Alison. So their destiny was in the hands of an eighteen-year-old country girl that had tried to hit him with a cricket ball? Sidney tapped the mantelpiece again. He had made the mistake of underestimating a Miss Heywood once before – he was not going to repeat it.

“I fear if I return to Willingden now, my father will never let me go anywhere close to society again,” Charlotte went on. “Or any of my sisters, for that matter. He’ll just see his point proven that it is safest to stay at home.” So would she keep the engagement because she did not want to go home? Sidney wondered. 

“Who would have thought that being engaged is so complicated?” she asked after a moment, looking up to him with a droll questioning smile. 

Sidney did not return the smile. He felt his mouth twitch. Unknowingly, she had hit a sensitive spot again. It was his second engagement, and with every day passing, it became even more complicated and doomed than the first one. Clenching his jaw and struggling for a neutral expression, he asked: “So we’ll keep the door open but not walk through right now?”

“Yes. Unless… unless there is a reason for you to wish to end it.”

Sidney frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Maybe there is someone you truly wish to marry? Not following your brother’s orders?”

“I still consider myself ill-suited for marriage and destined to remain alone. That fact hasn’t changed over the last week.”

“I see.” She stared down at her feet, biting her lip.

“What is it?” he asked. He knew that expression too well. There was something on her mind. When she looked up, she fully met his gaze.

“I was just thinking about how sad it is to say something like that about oneself. That you are destined to remain alone. – And now you will tell me that I speak out of turn and that you don’t care a fig about what I have to say.”

“No.”

“No?”

“I asked you to speak your mind. Actually… there may be some value in what you say.” And on top of that: it did not feel wrong to share these thoughts with her. And it felt even better to know that she cared about what he was thinking about himself.

Wickens came in, interrupting their conversation – or whatever it was. “The foreman is here to see you, sir. Mr Stringer.”

“Ah, yes. Send him in.” Sidney turned away from Charlotte, concentrating on the task at hand. 

“Do you mind if I stay?” she asked.

“Not at all.” 

“Mr Parker!” Young Stringer rushed in, his hat in his hand, then suddenly stopped when he noticed Charlotte. “Miss Heywood. Well met.” He bowed, beaming now. 

“Good morning, Mr Stringer.” She returned his smile. “How is your father doing today?”

“We had a bit of a rough night, but I trust he’ll pull through. It’s all thanks to you, miss. You saved his life.”

“Only his leg, Mr Stringer. And that was mostly the surgeon’s work.”

“Yes, but without you…” Young Stringer shook his head, and underneath the sorrow about the previous day’s events, Sidney detected the familiar admiration for his fiancée. An admiration that went beyond gratefulness for a saved leg: an admiration that expressed itself in luminous eyes at the sight of Charlotte Heywood’s smile and an apparent inability to look anywhere else than at Charlotte Heywood herself. Who was either too artless or too naïve to notice. 

“Ahem,” Sidney said, reaching into his pocket and holding up a leather pouch. “I’ve got the pay for your men here, Mr Stringer. That should be enough for what is outstanding, for the coming weeks and additional labourers.”

Finally, the foreman took his eyes off Charlotte. “Thank you, sir.”

“Just check the sum and sign the receipt here.” While Stringer counted the coins, Sidney tried to read Charlotte’s expression. She seemed to be genuinely happy to see the young man, but was that because she admired him or his work? Or was she in all her goodness generally glad to see the foreman’s troubles solved? Would it do to tell her to stay away from the building site while he was in London? No, it would not. She would most likely get angry and think him overbearing. Which would only give her another reason to walk through that back door.

“I’d also ask you to organise a watchman for Waterloo Terrace,” Sidney said as Stringer concluded the counting and signed the paper. “For the night and when there’s no one on the site.” The foreman looked up.

“Any reason to worry, sir?”

“No. Just a precaution.” He shot a glance at Charlotte, who was quietly leafing through Tom’s correspondence with the insurance company. “And… Mr Stringer, two more things. If the situation ever becomes that grave again, please come to me directly.”

“I will, sir.”

“And I expect this matter to remain between us. I don’t want to hear any harsh words from the labourers about my brother and the state of the works.”

“Understood, sir.” Stringer pocketed the leather pouch. “Good day, Miss Heywood.” She looked up from the letter she was reading.

“Good day, Mr Stringer. And give my best wishes to your father. I’ll call on him soon if I may.” 

“We would be honoured, miss,” the foreman said with a small bow. Sidney felt his mouth twitch. He could hardly ban his fiancée from visiting the sickbed of a man whose leg (or life, or both) she had saved. Bans, he had an inkling, would not work with her at all.

“That’s it then,” he said, folding the receipt. “I’ll pay a visit to Georgiana, and then I’m off to London again.”

“Oh, Georgiana…” Charlotte blushed. “I’ve been meaning to inform you… I… I told her about the engagement. She wasn’t actually exhilarated.”

“No.” Sidney sighed. “I didn’t expect her to be.”

“But her anger is mostly with me.”

“Again, no surprise, since she’s angry with me already.”

“She believes I’m your spy, trying to gain her confidence.”

“I fear nothing I can say will convince her of the opposite.” Sidney was actually feeling a little sorry for Charlotte. He would have to cope with Babington’s and Crowe’s teasing once they had opened today’s newspaper and seen the announcement, but he would not have to sacrifice their friendship.

“She basically threw me out when Miss Brereton came to call yesterday,” Charlotte went on. 

“Miss Brereton? Well, there’s someone to teach Georgiana female accomplishments and ladylike behaviour,” he said without thinking. Charlotte raised an eyebrow.

“Because you so much appreciate women who are sitting in their guardian’s house with their piano and their embroidery, waiting for someone to come along and take them off your hands?”

Sidney gasped. “No, I…” 

Why, oh, why did it always happen again and again? Why was he utterly incapable of having a conversation with Charlotte Heywood without offending her at some stage? – And why was he feeling guilty about it if she was the one who time and again wound him up?

“I believe you are a friend of Miss Brereton’s as well,” he said somewhat frostily.

“Yes, I believed so too for a while,” Charlotte replied without looking at him. He sighed; he was a businessman trying to save his brother’s grand project and reputation. He had no patience for tales of jealousy among the young ladies of Sanditon.

“Anyway. Time for me to leave. We'll continue our conversation when I come back from London, Miss Heywood.”

“Goodbye, Mr Parker. I wish you every success with the insurance company.” The smile she bestowed on him was nothing compared to the beaming face she had had for Stringer, and it made Sidney feel oddly lost and cold. The back door was still open, and he was sure she was only waiting for the right moment to walk through.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It may take a little longer until the next update, I’m afraid. RL is calling. Keep an eye on the back door!


	8. Interrogation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for keeping an eye on the back door while I was out in RL!   
> I understand the door is nailed, glued, bolted, locked (several times, with the keys thrown away), secured with a chair wedged under the knob and a bookshelf in front of it, and guarded by a number of Sanditon sisters, a watchman and at least one angry dog. That should do the job.
> 
> This chapter is a bit of a mess. It ended up much longer than I anticipated and contains some of the silliest lines I’ve ever written. I apologise in advance and just add a gentle reminder that I am not a native English speaker. If what you read does not make any sense at all: that’s the explanation.

**_Previously..._ **

_Before leaving for London to sort out his brother’s insurance business, Sidney has an open conversation with Charlotte, complimenting her on her resourcefulness during crisis. However, when Young Stringer enters the scene to collect the labourer’s pay, jealous Sidney returns, and they part on less friendly terms._

_Charlotte has written to Alison for advice on her engagement: the question of the back door remains unresolved for the moment._

_***_

If Tom Parker had one admirable quality, then it was how easily he managed to forget his past failures and put his energy into the next scheme. In this case, it was the happy announcement the London newspapers brought to Sanditon, namely the engagement of Mr Sidney Parker, Bedford Place, Bloomsbury, and Miss Charlotte Heywood, Willingden, Sussex. 

Tom Parker walked about his little town as if he was the sole engineer of happiness, and when asked about the joyful event, he twirled his cane and gladly implied that he had known his brother and his guest were meant for each other from the very second they first met. 

It did not matter that he had not been present for the meeting, or that the only other witness – his dearest wife – had a slightly different memory of the encounter: he was now determined to promote Sanditon as the place where young ladies from nowhere were safe to find their prince charming. And as the experience of being humiliated by two of his labourers in front of his wife, his brother, and his future sister-in-law had taught him not much, he was utterly oblivious to any doubts or misgivings – or even the bride’s feelings on the matter. It would have helped if the humiliation had occurred in front of a larger audience – let’s say a crowd of spectators during a game of sports – but that was not the case, and Mr Parker remained full of his very own Tom-ness.

Charlotte found it very difficult to accept the various congratulations and good wishes. She found it difficult to bear the giggle of the Beaufort sisters when she called on Georgiana. She found it difficult to handle Georgiana’s refusal to see her. She found it difficult to navigate Sanditon’s street without bumping into the vicar, who was most eager to start his educative bible lessons with her. She found it difficult to accept Alison’s reply to her letter: that their dear papa, while still not happy about the speed in which the engagement had come about, was warming to the idea of having his eldest girl married to a severe young businessman. Careful man that he was, Mr Heywood very much preferred professional seriousness in a suitor to youthful folly.

But what Charlotte found most difficult to bear was Tom’s bragging about how his brother was a changed man now that he had found happiness. 

Sidney Parker was definitely not a changed man. His strategy of allowing her to come closer only to push her away even more forcefully did nothing to increase his chances of ever finding happiness. For some precious moments during the dramatic events around Old Stringer’s accident and the following morning, Charlotte had allowed herself to believe that there was a way, if not to mutual love and affection, then at least to mutual respect and understanding. She had even hoped to find out how his feelings had been wounded, how he had come to believe that he was ill-suited for marriage. 

Instead, they had parted on bad terms once again, and with every well-wisher on her engagement, the back door Tom Parker’s mismanagement had opened for them closed a little further.

A few days after the announcement and on her return from another futile morning visit to Georgiana, Charlotte stopped once more in front of Sidney’s portrait in the hallway of Trafalgar House. 

How that painting had fascinated and vexed her from the very first moment! Just like its sitter. It was very much like him – and not at all at the same time. And how strange it was to have the likeness of one’s younger brother on display at such a prominent spot of the house! The portraits of the late Mr and Mrs Parker were relegated to the upper corridor. The parents were hardly ever referred to by either of their children, but whether that was due to negligence or lingering pain about their loss, Charlotte could not say. 

Mary had told her that Mrs Parker, née Jane Sidney, had succumbed to an unspecified illness when Arthur was but a toddler: here was and explanation for Diana’s protectiveness. Mr Henry Parker had died when all children but his eldest son were still underage, leaving Tom at the age of twenty-two as the guardian of four younger siblings. _Four_ younger siblings? Charlotte thought but did not dare to ask further: as the eldest of fourteen that were now only twelve, she knew how agonising the loss of a brother or a sister was. And maybe the responsibility Tom Parker had taken on so early in his life explained something about his astonishing ability to bend any situation in a direction that would suit him.

Charlotte’s gaze returned to Sidney’s likeness, the defiance in his eyes, the arrogant line around his mouth. And yet, as in the real man, there was something – 

A sharp knock on the front door interrupted her musings. Wickens hurried to open, and Charlotte looked her doom and destiny straight into the eye: It was Mr Hankins, lifting his flat vicar’s hat and bestowing a complacent smile on her. “Miss Heywood. I was hoping to find you in the safe haven of your hosts’ home.”

“Oh, I… I…” Charlotte started, desperately searching for a chore that might keep her from seeing the vicar now but unable to remember any. It would not help anyway: Mr Hankins would persist and return. And Sanditon was a small town. She would not be able to escape him forever. So with a small sigh, she resigned herself to her fate, put on a brave face as the vicar handed his hat and coat to Wickens, and invited her guest into the drawing-room.

“It is my sad understanding,” Mr Hankins said as he settled down at the table, “that a date for your nuptials has not yet been set.”

“No, we… umm…” Charlotte sought an excuse that did not include back doors and potential financial ruin. “We’ll be getting married in Willingden, and of course, my parents have a say in the matter.” 

“I see.” Mr Hankins eyed her suspiciously, stroking his rather impressive sideburns as he did so. “I do consider contacting your father to apprise him of the particular delicacy and urgency of your situation.”

“That will not be necessary,” Charlotte quickly reassured him. “Mr Parker has seen my parents and received their blessings. In fact… in fact, I have just had a letter from my sister telling me how much our father values Mr Parker. – But Willingden is a farming community, and an event such as a great wedding has to be arranged around the harvest schedule,” she added, hoping that the vicar was not all too familiar with the said schedule. “I believe it will be all done by the end of the summer.” With a sinking heart, she realised that the back door out of her engagement was closing further with every word she spoke.

“This will provide me with a broader timeline to prepare you for your future tasks, Miss Heywood,” Mr Hankins announced. “It is my fundamental duty to ensure that you enter the holy state of matrimony in a humble mind and fully prepared for your new role. I should wish to point out though that I do not condone long periods of engagement. It’s a sensitive time in a young woman’s life in which her innocence is often troubled by temptation.” He cast a stern glance at Charlotte, who choked on the remark that so far, she had only been troubled by the temptation to shove her fiancé off some elevated point, be it the ballroom’s balcony, the building site’s scaffolding or the clifftop.

Seeing her mind wandering, the vicar cleared his throat. “You will be safe once you’ve settled under the protective wings of your husband, who will provide you guidance in all matters... in _all_ matters,” he emphasised.

Rather than guidance, my future husband is more likely to provide an endless succession of assumptions, repercussions and misunderstandings, Charlotte thought with a soft sigh.

“I presume you are familiar with the words of the Apostle Paul, Miss Heywood?” Mr Hankins went on. “ _Neither was the man created for the woman; but the woman for the man. Wives, submit yourselves unto your own husbands, as unto the Lord.”_

“Yes,” Charlotte confirmed, hoping they might skip over this part very quickly.

“And why is that so?” the vicar asked, opening his Bible. Charlotte shrugged her shoulders.

“Because… that’s what the Apostle says?” she suggested.

“Because that’s what the _Lord_ says,” Mr Hankins corrected, a rather smug expression on his face as if he wanted to add: I knew you’d be in dire need of these lessons, missy. “ _And the Lord God said: It is not good that man should be alone; I will make him a help-meet,”_ he read _._ “A help-meet, Miss Heywood. Someone to support and assist their husband in all his plans and aspirations.”

“I believe if I look up to Mrs Thomas Parker, I will find a perfect example of how to be a good wife to a husband full of plans and aspirations,” Charlotte said. 

“And yet it was under Mrs Parker supervision that the regrettable incident occurred which led to your current situation,” Mr Hankins reminded her. “A virtuous paragon is not easy to be found. I suggest you raise your eyes to the excellent Mrs Griffiths.” He fondled his sideburns again. 

He had actually very thick and long sideburns, Charlotte thought. Very different from Sidney Parker, who wore his sideburns short and trim, not as means to hide part of his face, but merely to accentuate his ears – very fine ears, one had to admit, the auricles forming completely regular ovals ending in perfectly shaped earlobes. 

She gave an exasperated sigh. Why would she be thinking about Sidney Parker’s ears? 

Because everything would be so much easier if only her… her grumpy… her grumpy crumpet of a fiancé were not looking like a dashing hero who had stepped right off the silly romance novels her younger sisters loved to read.

“Ahem.” The vicar clearing his throat made Charlotte return to reality. “Do I have your attention, Miss Heywood?”

“Yes. Of course. I’m sorry. I was distracted.”

“Distraction is a state a young woman is quickly found in. And it is a dangerous state, I daresay, as a young lady’s reputation is fragile and easily compromised once she is about to be... to be plucked. – We were discussing the qualities of a pious woman. It is in synergy with her husband that she will thrive… that she will blossom… blossom like a flower.”

“I see. Thank you.” Charlotte had a sneaky feeling that Mr Sidney Parker would deny being in need of someone to share synergies with, considering himself an outlier as he did. And he would roll his eyes at the idea of the ubiquitous Miss Heywood blossoming like a flower: he would claim she was a very persistent weed.

Mr Hankins, however, having returned to his favourite botanical theme, went on: “You will soon find that in a marriage, the husband is like a tree… strong and solid, rooted into the ground, the mighty canopy offering protection and a safe haven in moments of need and peril.” For a few seconds, he stared into the distance, apparently lost in awe of himself and his own powerful words. Then he returned to his subject: “The dutiful wife, however, will be like the ivy, wrapping herself around his solid trunk, clinging to him for the relief his forceful strength will provide.” 

Charlotte did not know what to say, especially since the vicar was stroking his sideburns again and seemed to have forgotten her presence entirely. “Thank you,” she finally uttered. “I shall keep that in my mind.” Mr Hankins looked up.

“Umm. Ahem. I suggest we proceed by reading more of what the Apostle has to say on…”

Mercifully, a knock on the door averted any further teachings.

“I’m so sorry to interrupt, Mr Hankins.” Mary stuck her head in, and never had Charlotte been so grateful for seeing her hostess. “We will have to suspend your lessons. Lady Denham has sent a message for Miss Heywood. – She expects you to come to Sanditon House this afternoon, Charlotte.” This was a quick return to reality.

“She expects me to come to Sanditon House?” Charlotte raised an eyebrow. “That is an interesting way to phrase an invitation.”

“I fear it’s not an invitation but an interrogation.” Mary sighed, her expression sorrowful as always. “She’ll want to hear all about the engagement.”

“Then I better make sure I’m well prepared.” And there went the afternoon she had hoped to spend by the river with Alicia, Jenny and Henry.

“We shall continue our lesson soon,” the vicar announced, collecting his Bible. “Good day, Miss Heywood.”

Mary insisted Charlotte accepted her maid’s services, first to dress her hair, then as a chaperone to accompany her on the walk to Sanditon House. There were no more lonely strolls outside Sanditon town for Charlotte: feeling she had neglected her duties as her hostess once, Mary was now adamant when it came to appropriate behaviour. Nevertheless, Charlotte enjoyed the exertion, the view and the opportunity to recollect her spirits after the vicar’s somewhat confounding utterings.

Lady Denham was expecting her guest in the drawing-room, a huge cave-like hall whose frightening more-than-life-sized paintings and sinister red mosaic snake on the black marble floor made Charlotte shiver. The room was sparsely furnished, with two chairs and a side table in front of the empty fireplace, a piano – now occupied by Clara – and a sofa on which Sir Edward Denham was lounging, resting his sprained ankle on a low stool – a reminder of Doctor Fuchs’s unfortunate demonstration in this very room. Esther Denham was by her brother’s side, leaning her elbow on the armrest and her chin on her hand, forming the very picture of haughtiness and ennui.

Charlotte made her curtseys, said her how-do-you-dos and received their congratulations – if, in fact, they were meant as congratulations: “Such passion,” Sir Edward said. “Who would have thought that of Sidney Parker?”

“Yes, who indeed,” Miss Denham added with a yawn. Clara stopped playing the piano and smiled sweetly. 

“I wish you all the best, Charlotte. I tried to convince Miss Lambe not to take her grievances with her guardian out on you, but she still feels very upset about your breach of confidence.”

“I see,” Charlotte said, now feeling upset as well. There was a time – not too long ago, actually – when she had hoped to be friends with Clara, but ever since witnessing that strange incident in the park and Clara’s and Sir Edward’s attempts at blaming each other for whatever she had seen, she had found it difficult to trust her fully. Clara endearing herself to Georgiana combined with Sidney Parker naming her as a beacon of female accomplishments did not improve the situation.

“Miss Heywood!” Lady Denham barked from her armchair. “Come here, sit with me.”

Charlotte duly sat down with her ladyship. Cold and empty as the drawing-room was, its sheer size meant that she was now out of earshot of the Denham siblings. Clara had returned to playing the piano, and Miss Denham simply continued staring into the void, looking distant and aloof and as if she was not aware of Sir Edward watching Clara with a disturbingly hungry expression on his face.

“Tell me, Miss Heywood,” Lady Denham said. “Has Mr Tom recovered from the fake physician’s scandalous flight?”

“I believe Doctor Fuchs is a learned man who provided excellent credits, ma’am,” Charlotte replied, suppressing a sigh. There seemed to be no end to the saga of the unfortunate doctor.

“Poppycock and nonsense!” her ladyship cried. “Mr Tom Parker is far too gullible, but I have a sharp eye; I recognise a charlatan when I see one. – Everything about that man was fake. His hair dye, his glasses, even his accent… with a little research, this celebrated Doctor Fuchs from some fancy German place will turn into a very ordinary Mr Fox who was previously selling spring water claiming it was tonic from Scarborough spa.”

“I’ve never tried tonic from Scarborough,” Charlotte said, feeling slightly confused. 

“Of course, you haven’t.” Her ladyship shook her head. “I didn’t expect you to. Half a tumbler of seawater every day, that’s what _I_ recommend. – Well, at least the drawing-room floor received a good scrubbing down after being flooded.” – and for a few moments, she contemplated that very same floor with the shiny red mosaic snake poking its tongue at them. “Now,” Lady Denham finally said. “This engagement of yours, Miss Heywood. I want to hear it all. Were you and Mr Sidney being caught during an act of indecency?”

“What?” Charlotte sat up straight. “What makes your ladyship think that?” Lady Denham shrugged her shoulders.

“A pretty young girl… catches the eye of a handsome gentleman… it would not be the first time.”

“I assure you, ma’am…” The old lady raised a hand.

“Oh, don’t assure me, Miss Heywood. You assured me once you were not here for hunting a fortune. That wealth would not come into the matter, and you would only marry out of mutual love and affliction.”

“Affection,” Charlotte corrected, frowning.

“Affliction… affection… I should say it’s the same.” Lady Denham shrugged her shoulders again. “Now we’ll get to the bottom of it. Is this one of Mr Tom Parker’s schemes? Promote Sanditon as a marketplace for advantageous matches?”

“Ma’am, truly… do you believe either Mr Sidney Parker or I would participate in such a plan?” Lady Denham regarded her for a moment, then shook her head. 

“No. You are far too honest, and he is far too reserved. You are such an odd couple and not much of a recommendation for any matchmaker. – Where are you going? I haven’t dismissed you, Miss Heywood!”

“I suppose if you have invited me only to insult me, Lady Denham, then I might be free to leave,” Charlotte said, feeling her heart pounding violently as she stood in front of her ladyship.

“Insult you, Miss Heywood? I’m honouring you with my attention.” Clara ended her piano play mid-tone, turning her head at her aunt. Over on the sofa, Sir Edward moved his stare from Clara to Charlotte, and even his sister now looked at their visitor.

“I can’t see how it is an honour to be accused of indecency, mercenary intentions and incompatibility with my fiancé,” Charlotte claimed. Even though there was some truth in Lady Denham’s observations. Yet, it was not her ladyship’s part to make assumptions and pass judgement.

To her surprise, Lady Denham laughed. “I’m only teasing you, Miss Heywood. You amuse me. - I’m not used to such candour in the younger generation,” she added, glancing at her nephew and nieces. Miss Denham quickly looked the other way, and Sir Edward rose and limped over to the piano where Clara had resumed playing. “I’ll turn the pages for you, Miss Brereton,” he declared, leaning on his healthy foot.

“Idleness and indolence,” Lady Denham commented. “They only wait for me to die and leave a fortune to them so they can keep on being idle and indolent in even more style. – Your Mr Sidney is cut from a different wood. And so are you. But you know that, of course.”

Charlotte sat down again, wondering what to say. Over at the piano, a sheet of music was slowly gliding to the floor. Sir Edward bent down and picked it up, openly grazing the full length of Clara’s arm and searching Charlotte’s gaze as he did so. What a despicable man!

And his aunt did not even notice, being too busy getting to the bottom of Miss Heywood’s engagement.

“What irks me is the speed in which you proceed. How long have you known him? A few weeks? I had not expected you to accept an offer of marriage so easily.”

“Once you’ve found the person you wish to marry, it’s a fairly simple decision, ma’am,” Charlotte said – and it was a fairly simple thing to say, considering that she had no real wish to marry Mr Sidney Parker.

Lady Denham frowned, clearly not happy with romantic poppycock. “And your family approves, I presume? It’s an excellent bargain on your side, after all.”

“Mr Parker went to Willingden and received my father’s blessings,” Charlotte replied. There was no need to mention that he had received those blessings only at the second try and with the help of her letter, just as there was no need to refer to the second part of her ladyship’s assertion.

“It must be a great relief for your father to see you being taken care of. – Now, Miss Heywood. Tell me truly and freely: Is this the love match you so eagerly claimed at my luncheon, with Mr Sidney sitting by your side?”

Charlotte felt herself blushing. There was no way to tell her ladyship an outright lie – just as there was no way to tell her the truth. “I see no reason why I should have to justify my actions – or Mr Parker’s – to you, ma’am.”

“You give back as good as you receive, Miss Heywood.” Lady Denham chuckled. “However, your answer tells me all I need to know. And I am feeling sorry for you – to see that you have to give up on your principles so quickly. Though I am, of course, not at all surprised that you have to give them up in the first place.”

“I…” Charlotte started to protest. Lady Denham shook her head and touched her hand. 

“No… no, my dear. You will soon understand that a mercenary match has its advantages. My first husband, Mr Hollis, was a very wealthy man. It’s his money that the Denhams are profiteering of right now; it’s his money that bought this house… but it’s Sir Harry’s title that makes the fortune truly sparkle. Choose your marriage partner well, and it will ultimately grant you freedom.”

“I don’t understand,” Charlotte said, frowning and trying to suppress her horror at the idea of marrying her way up the social ladder. That Sidney Parker was a rich man was nothing but a fortunate coincidence. She was sure she would find happiness by the side of a man from a modest background, a man like James Stringer – if only they were bound to each other by mutual love and affection. Her thoughts must be plainly visible on her face, for Lady Denham shook her head.

“To love someone is to be held captive. And marriage is a long journey. Do you want to spend it in captivity?”

“But surely, if there is love on both sides…” 

“You cannot help it, can you, Miss Heywood? You must have an opinion and give voice to it.” Her ladyship was more amused than annoyed. “Love on both sides… but how long do you think that love will last?”

“Your ladyship seems to have more experience on the matter than I,” Charlotte boldly replied.

“And indeed, I do! – Don’t look at me like that, Miss Heywood,” Lady Denham said, for indeed Charlotte had raised her eyebrows and was staring at her hostess now. “I was a girl once too… long before you were born, of course. Young and energetic and full of hope and confidence… and pretty, I might say. _He_ was the handsomest man in Somerset, but I believed him to be the handsomest man in the world. And he knew it, of course. My heart would pound so hard whenever he came into the room. Very exciting. Very exciting at the time.” Lady Denham was looking at the more-than-life-size-painting adorning the wall, lost in her memories and as if there was any chance the depicted god might turn into the handsomest man in Somerset if only she kept staring at him.

“But you didn’t marry him,” Charlotte observed.

“No. I didn’t. He kept me dangling for a while, trembling for a kind look, a smile or a tender word, and then he married a girl from Gloucestershire with forty thousand. – He had debts, you see, and could not afford to marry me. It should have been obvious to me at the time, but I don’t have to tell you how young girls are. Full of hope for mutual love and affection.”

Charlotte did not know what to say. Sir Edward had returned to the sofa, sitting slightly closer to his sister now than before, and Clara was all-immersed in her piano playing.

“There you have it, Miss Heywood,” Lady Denham said. “Love is not the key to happiness.”

“Then what is?”

“Money, of course.”

*

On her walk along the cliff and back to Trafalgar House, Charlotte recapped Lady Denham’s conversation again and again. Thankfully, the maid Mary had sent with her as a chaperone was not of the talkative kind, leaving her enough space to ponder about what had transpired. 

Her first thought was that the back door was closed now. First the vicar’s visit, now the lady of the town giving her blessings to the match… There was no way to declare it all null and void and a terrible mistake unless they wanted to create exactly the kind of scandal their engagement was meant to prevent.

Her second thought was how sad it was that Lady Denham had once loved and that that experience had left her disillusioned and a cynic. Love and affliction, indeed! Was that what had happened to Sidney Parker as well? What had left him cold and… _ill-suited for marriage_ , in his own words? Had he been ditched by a lovely young lady who had chosen a handsome fortune over his handsome face? – And had she just thought of him as having a “handsome face”?

She sighed deeply, making the maid stop. “Is everything alright, miss?”

“Yes,” Charlotte said. “I was just… I was just thinking.” 

Of course, he had a handsome face. It was one of those irritating, infuriating things about him that had misled her from the very beginning. Especially on the ball room’s balcony: that his offensiveness, his insults and insinuations were concealed behind such a pleasing appearance. It was very unfair. 

If only they found a better way of communicating with each other! 

If only he had never brought up Clara Brereton as a role model for Georgiana. And Clara befriending Georgiana! What Charlotte had witnessed today had only strengthened her belief that something was going on between Clara and Sir Edward, something sinister and inappropriate. Sir Edward, staring at her while fondling Clara… that was truly sickening. Try as she might, she could not imagine Sidney Parker playing such games in public. And try as she might, she could not imagine recoiling from Sidney Parker’s touch as she would from Sir Edward’s.

That was really strange now. She stopped and stared out across the sea, feeling her heart pound heavily. _Sidney Parker’s touch_. Why did that thought send a shiver down her spine?

Next to her on the path, a young herring gull landed on a rock, shaking its brown juvenile plumage and staring at her from grey eyes as if it wanted to say: Any trouble, dear? Share it with me!

And now I hear the birds talking to me, Charlotte thought with another sigh, and walked on, quickening her pace.

“You look a bit flushed, miss,” the maid said.

“It’s just the exertion of the walk.” But it was not. It was the idea of Sidney Parker grazing her arm just as Sir Edward had grazed Clara’s. Not in public, but in private. In a very different scenario. Sidney Parker, talking about heirs and children. Surely, the one was somehow linked to the other, yet she knew so little about these things, and she wished there was someone to enlighten her. Mary? No, Mary Parker was a kind woman and a dear friend, but she was also his sister-in-law.

It was all so very confounding. Was it possible to like and dislike someone at the same time? And if it was possible – was there a name for it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Grumpy crumpet: cousin of the grumpymuffin I lately met on Twitter (@tipsmom3). I simply could not resist - sorry!


End file.
